The Batman Who Laughs
by obscureWriter7
Summary: Most stories are about Good vs Evil but, what happens when the line between those two becomes so blurred that you cannot be sure anymore? The Batman Who Laughs explores the choices and the dilemmas of a Batman who is stuck in an unbalanced world. An Evil side of him, if you will. Insanity, Truth and Death taken to their very fiery depths.
1. Chapter 1

Batman was created by Bob Kane. This is just a FanFiction based on the characters in the Batman Universe.

 **Chapter 1**

 **Death**

Two were dead. One remained. But he would not kill now. He could not. Having Batman around was his only source of fun. No one else mattered. Well, maybe Harley.

He had previously murdered a Robin. Beloved Robin, and Batman had gone mad – Ruthless. This was bound to push him farther. Bruce Wayne had, now, perhaps lost everyone he cared about. Yes, he knew at last who was behind the tough mask.

Waiting was mundane. He wanted rage, fun. Slowly, he walked over the dark figure lying motionless in the dirt. Part of the mask had come off during the fight and the Billionaire's face was covered in blood. He grazed the face with his crowbar. He should have known it was Wayne all along. All those encounters at the Balls and fancy parties that he had raided, all those fights and bruises that now marked him permanently - they were inseparable. Years and years spent chasing each other and now it felt like he hardly knew the Batman. In fairness, he hardly knew himself so this brought them closer than ever. Yes, Wayne had been clever to keep his identity hidden, but it didn't matter in the end, did it? He got there in the end. He got to him. He let out a cackle.

"Wakey, wakey Batsy," he said. "It's your turn to go mad!"

He kicked the dark mass repeatedly till he could look directly into the face and then smashed the crowbar in it. A faint version of the familiar grunt made its way to his ears.

"That's right Bats, you're here and so am I. Who gets this round? Me? Oh so sweet of you. Hehe .. and what do I get? Hmmm? A prison cell in Arkham? Bleh."

"You know what you get for losing? Another dead Robin, but this time with a girlfriend so he doesn't get too lonely. Two deaths in one night Bats. Ha ha! Now wake up!," he yelled, kicking the body again.

And now did the body shift. Perhaps hearing that there had been another _death in the family_ brought back too many memories? Still sticking to the 'No-Killing' rule Batman? Don't think so.

He waited patiently. Patience was not something he was known for but, in this case he would make an exception. He had finally managed to do the one thing that would push Batman beyond his rules. Stupid rules! Hadn't he told Batman that the only way to live in this world was without rules?

Bruce stirred feebly. The Joker watched as Batman struggled to get up. Watched the horror make it to the orphan's face as realisation of the past hour struck. Yes, pain – a strong sedative.

"Batsy, you're not paying enough attention to me!," cried the Joker making a sour face.

Then came the anger. The rage that he had known and cherished for so long. The Dark Knight growled and threw him against the wall. He then bashed the Joker's head till the Joker gasped for breath. Pain – so addictive. He let out another cackle and spat blood.

"Wickety-Wachety .. hehe .. there he is .. ha .. the Batman of Gotham," spat the clown, looking up. Batman was on his knees again, crawling towards the bodies. Blah .. hope. Just as stupid as rules. Stupider even than trust. And that's why Batman never won. Rules, Trust and Hope – yuck .. he could puke blood. Wait, he already was, bleh-he.

"Robin, wake up! Batgirl! Robin!," cried Bruce, shaking the limp body of the dead sidekick. He felt for a pulse, there was a certain hesitancy and fear. Yes, that had always been Batman's greatness weakness. He pretended not to care, yet he cared so much that it caused physical pain.

"What have you done Joker?," snarled the Bat. He moved faster than Joker anticipated, for a man poisoned and beaten nearly to death.

The clown felt the full blow in his guts, joyfully crying out. Ruthless. He let the punches settle in, and the blood flow out. Always smiling. This was paradise. Ha. Left, face, his ribs – Batman was breaking him, physically, yet in reality he was being put together, in the right way. Almost poetic. No rules. No sense. This was the closet he ever came to Batman, to Bruce – the Orphan.

Yet the punches were slowing down, the force behind them was feeble. Batman was panting. Ah, the poison – ugh – right when things were getting riveting. The Bat was on his knees again, so this was a fast poison. He had the antidote of course. One petite test tube stashed away in his jacket.

The poison had already entered Gotham's water supply by now. In a few hours, deaths would be reported all across the city. Oh wait! Who would report it if everyone was dead – Ga – greasy slime balls who'd be too drunk to care about waking up .. hehe .. But no, he had to save Batman. The antidote would only be for him. Wayne was all that mattered. Wayne would keep him sane. Sane? Hehoha – enshuldigung – Insane. Together they would watch the city burn and die.

The cave was dark, and the sound of rushing water echoed as the Joker got up, feeling his broken ribs, laughing all the while.

"Haha ... that wasn't so bad Batsy ... Heh ... I can almost feel my bones trying to get outside of my skin .. Haha ... now that would be a great trick ..."

There was some movement in the cave. Scuffling of feet. For a moment he wondered if the sidekick and the girl weren't dead after all. But the two bodies didn't seem to have moved at all. He looked around slowly, automatically bending down to retrieve his crowbar on the ground. Someone had decided to join the party.

"Right through here, Mr. Cobblepot sir," said a deep voice from somewhere in the dark.

Joker moved quickly, reaching for Batman – he had to save him before they got here. Penguin would ruin everything. Bruce caught him by the collar before the Joker could reach him, and looking into the vigilante's face, the Joker saw – not the anger that kept the scowl in place, but the fear that he had never seen before. All this for a bunch of street thugs Batman? Perhaps he thought his beloved sidekick was in trouble? Haha their deaths are real Bats, the sooner you accept it, the sooner you can get us out of here. Away from the fat balding prick Cobblebot.

"Save them!," pleaded the Batman, before falling limply back to the ground. His hand twitched for a moment but then everything went still.

Before the Joker could take out the vial of antidote however, something hard hit the back of his head, his vision going all fuzzy.

"Sleepy, sleepy," he fell, head first on to the damp floor.

"Gordon won't be livin' no more, ya hear me? If he's breathin' t'morrow morning, you ain't gonna," barked a slimy, high pitched voice.

There were footsteps. The Joker could hear the Penguin talk and then there was someone answering him back. His head hurt. He turned looking around, there were the two dead bodies by the stream, untouched. Of course they wouldn't be interested in anyone but Batman. Poor souls didn't know what was coming for them – haha. And there he was – Batman. Tied upside down by the legs with his face about an average man's height above ground. Easier to talk to. He wasn't moving, and the antidote was still in Joker's left jacket pocket. He had to reach the Bat – to keep him alive. He couldn't feel his gun. They had obviously stripped him of weapons before tying him up. Cobblepot turned to look at him.

"Quite the nap ya had t'ere clown boy, gave the ol' me a scare. How ya feeling? Good, eh? The mob's been tryin to kill Batman fer over a decade, yet ya is the o'ly one gettin' so close. What's yo secret laafy?"

"Did ya search him up maggots? 'lways has a trick up 'is sleeve this one," said the Penguin, moving towards the Joker and laughing at him.

"Always poking your stout belly where it doesn't belong, aren't you Penguin? One of these days it's gonna get you killed. I might do it myself, but you're far from dangerous. You're pathetic Cobblepot. Haha, half yer enemies die of laughter," jeered the Joker, laughing and coughing up blood all over.

Penguin slapped him, right across the face. Was that a molar? Maybe two? He laughed.

"Never did knew when ter shut yer damn 'outh, clown" said Penguin. "Always talkin, an' laughin. They told me ter shut ya up for good a lon' time ago. I waited. And now yer given me the Batman, who's laugin' now eh?"

The mob boss looked around, a couple of his thugs guffawed stupidly. Bleh, that was a Joke?

"Batman is going to get you to jail, Cobbly and then we'll continue this later. Haven't you learnt your lesson by now? There is no beating the Batman. Haha .. hasn't he proven that enough times already? And all your goons here? What are they? Replacements? Sure some of them are still in the medical room paying their bills," chortled the Joker trying to breathe in properly.

"Hmm .. yes .. " smiled Cobblepot, ".. yes .. ", starting to laugh.

".. heh .. but he wan't poisoned with yer li'l new invention all t'ose ot'er times, now was he? Hehe. Very cleva Joker. I was gettin' worried about ar masked friend until I found this, " he took a pink vial out of his fur coat and held it for the Joker to see.

"You recognise it, eh? Good. It's the antidote?," and he laughed at the disbelief in Joker's face.

"Now, wha' can be done with it? Surely, ya didn plan to giv' it ter the Bat? Maybe, yer jus' as insane as they say ya ar'. Ya ar. Lemme see. Down the drain it goes."

And to Joker's horror, he removed the cork and went to the stream flowing down to the river beyond. The one vial of antidote he had would be gone forever leaving Batman to die. He couldn't let that happen. Not now. Blindly he struggled against the ropes before one of the fat boss' goons knocked his head hard with a gun.

"NO! NO PENGUIN! KEEP THAT WHERE IT BELONGS! YOU'LL PAY FOR IT WITH MORE THAN YOUR LIFE IF YOU DON'T LIST-"

There was another blow to his forehead, making things almost unrecognizable, but he must stay conscious, he must fight the exhaustion. Or everything would be lost.

Slowly, as if he wanted the Joker's wobbly mind to witness the loss, Penguin poured the contents of the vial into the stream, the very stream Joker had poisoned moments before. The city's main water supply. The antidote supposed to revive Batman...gone.

"NOOOO..." Joker's cry of fury never left him. He struggled harder than ever. Bad joke. This was not happening. Maybe he could get the water to Batman. Cobblepot seemed to read his mind.

"Close tha' thing off, could use some quiet 'round here. I need some answers. An' then we'll kill both these clowns."

The man by the stream closed off the opening to the river, and suddenly the cave was as silent as a church, except for Penguin's half leg making the soft knocks now and again as he walked about between the doors.

"Ickle li'l Brucie Wayne is the Batman. Who'd haf thought it? I 'lways 'ssumed that t'is was a spoiled prick runnin around in a Mazerati. Ya have caused me so much trouble Batman, ofer the years and t'is ma time to pay you back," said Penguin, before stretching his hand out for a gun from one of his men.

The Joker looked around in desperation, spotting a Batarang lying near to the guard by him. He tried to reach it. Pretending to reach it of course and the guard came by to stop him, as expected. They never did learn – haha. He slipped the silver blade out of his sleeve, holding it with his gloved hand, and slashed the guard right across the face as he came nearer. Oops. At least the goon had a smile in death. He quickly picked the gun from his quarry, aiming for the other two irrelevants. One moved, quickly ducking behind the stone column but the other one wasn't so lucky. He put two in the man's chest before turning the Maverick on Penguin who stood rooted to the spot, eyes wide with a .95 mil in his outstretched hand.

"Move it Penguin and tell your goon to drop his gun," said the Joker, finally breaking himself free and keeping a close eye on the stone column where the only other thug remained hidden.

Penguin moved away from the Batman, dropping his gun. He gestured wordlessly to the other guard, who came out with his hands behind his head. No weapon. No visible weapon.

"Oooh just like old times eh Penguin? But we don't need him," said the Joker nodding frantically towards the guard, he then promptly turned the gun on him.

"Keep good company. Didn't anyone teach you that? Haha"

The shots fired echoed through the cave, and then there was a mild thud.

"Let's get you comfortable," said the Joker, gesturing the Penguin to move towards the opening that had been closed moments before. "Open it"

Penguin limped towards the doors, with one hand still in the air and the other holding his beady old umbrella for support. He managed to open the doors with a single hand, turning swiftly for a man of his size, he held the closed umbrella up with the pin pointing towards the Joker, a wide smile on his face. In one cursory moment, the Joker understood. And then he dived.

It was a machine gun, no doubt. The umbrella opened up, providing a perfect shield for the mobster's stout belly, his legs remained exposed. But the Joker remained ducked, hidden. Penguin was firing up and down the cave, with no regard for bullets. He didn't care what he hit. And then the firing stopped as soon as it had started. The Joker lay still, he knew it wasn't over by a long shot.

"Where is the BAT?," yelled Penguin. Firing at the spots near the place where the rope used to tie Batman up still hung – loose.

The Joker smiled.

The firing continued, Penguin was relentless. Once or twice, the Joker thought he heard the Batman grunt, but it was too hard to tell with the water running. Perhaps a couple of bullets found their mark? He edged slowly towards Penguin, with the knife in his other sleeve still intact. Batman needed the water to neutralise the effects of the poison. It had been a concentrated doze.

A shadow shifted, like something falling from the skies. Something huge. There was a scream, and a large amount of inconsistent shots fired. Now would be the time to move, he could just kill the Penguin while Batman tried to subdue him. He turned toward the gushing water, only to see the last of the cape fade away. Away from him, into the water. The weapon umbrella was left beyond the opening, bearing scratch marks and still open. Batman was gone, and so was the Penguin. The Joker blinked. Was he dead? Heh .. Would Batman know that the antidote would now have joined the river? He had to come out at one of the city's water posts. He would need water after a while. But he did not have a while. The poison was really strong, so Batman would have to act fast.

The Joker prepared to dive in, he needed the Bat to be alive. He had to be sure. He glanced around to look at the corpses one last time, admiring his handiwork. Bleh .. kids. So small and vulnerable. Yet they caused so much trouble and hardships. Their deaths would unleash the real Bat on Gotham. On him. He laughed, a cruel joke – what the low lives didn't understand was that all jokes needn't be just funny.

He turned, stuffing the gun in his back, as a severe bright light that almost blinded his eyes filled the entire cave. He tried to look through the light at the new, uninvited guests.

"GCPD! Put your hands in the air and turn around slowly!"


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

 **Gotham Unleashed**

Selina looked beautiful. She took one last look in the mirror and winked. Her eyelashes were the perfect dark colour that closely matched her brown eyes. Her hair was let loose such that it would slash about around her face, and her dress... well, there weren't any words to describe it. It was a gift, from her friend. Well, she liked to think he was more than a friend, but he was always too grim for his own good, always brooding away. She hadn't seen him in a while, so she hoped that today would be the day he would resurface from his obsessive attachment to solitude.

She walked out of her dingy apartment, carrying herself like a woman from the Upper West side. This was what came naturally to her, pretending to be someone else during the day. She was .. well there was no other word for it .. a thief. Plain and simple. Although she did help people occasionally. Especially when _he_ was around. He had this pull on her. And when around him, she saw the world differently. But her true self was the one she had during the night. A masked thief, fast and balanced – like a cat. And she had started wars. Oh yes. And she had pulled jobs that most men only dreamed of. She had killed. As she turned the corner of her street, a cab pulled up. She got in, passing the driver a decent credit.

"Take me to the Art symposium on Elk street by the Styx, and make sure you pass by the Wayne mansion," she said dismissively. It was important to maintain appearances. Even if it was with the stranger cabbies, that way no one could place her anywhere near here later.

She stared at the dodgy neighbourhood as the cab passed several homeless people on the streets, shouting and quarrelling over food and shelter for the night. A fight or two would go out of hand, and there would be bodies found the next day. It was all very common, Gothamites were used to it. Crime was their one constant companion.

She turned away, choosing to look at the dark skies beyond. It burned plainly in the dark sky for the third day now. The Bat signal. Gordon must be getting impatient. Crime in the last week had been tumultuous. She was finding it hard to get her usual high paying jobs from the rich, spoiled clients. When he was away, they tended to rely on petty thieves and thugs to get the job done. This was why she was dressed up so well tonight. She had to get a job for herself, work the parties to try and steal something valuable, to keep her in business until he returned. Things would then go back to normal. Except for the occasional help she provided him, which were never rewarding ironically, since she would be doing something for the greater good. But, she didn't mind. Bruce had always told her she could come by his house any time she wanted. They had known each other for a very long time. She had stolen from him too. But she had kept the necklace for herself. It was hers and he agreed.

Her thoughts wandered to his absence now. Surely the Justice League were at some crossroads with a mission of theirs and they needed all hands on deck. Otherwise he would be here. And the crimes would be in check. She was a little surprised the sidekicks had taken a backseat in his absence as well, but nothing was predictable with the Bat family. They worked well together but individually they were really scattered and lost. Except for him.

Wayne Manor was getting close now. And she hoped to get some answers. If he wasn't here then perhaps one of the other members of the vigilante force would shed some light on what was going on. If not, at least his sincere butler would be home. Either way she had to know what was going on.

"Wait here for a moment," she said, yanking the door even as the cab slowed down. She got out swiftly and crossed the highway, choosing to jump over the gates rather than wait for an answer at the machine outside. She walked in fast paces, leaving all pretences behind and anxiety taking over. He could very well be here. He could be back.

The mansion stood there, tall and dark in the faint moonlight. There was but one light in the study, well the study that people knew existed, it also led to the much larger study underground and further beyond the house. The larger, remote study was not so much a study as it was a cave. She smirked. Bruce was a man after her own heart.

She walked towards the study, there was no need to knock. She never did, even in her own house, well if you could call it a house. She took a leap, and climbed over the railing, a single window that was always kept open with curtains swinging in the evening breeze had a bulk of light pouring out. She moved towards it, quietly. And then there were voices.

"... I am sure there is an explanation, Master Grayson. With all that has happened, there could be any number of possibilities. The Commissioner would not return my calls. I am afraid the only thing we can do is wait for Master Bruce."

"Tim is dead, Alfred. And you're acting like everything's fine. And I don't blame Gordon for keeping his distance. He loved Barbara. I don't think we can look to any Police help on this. Everyone's beginning to notice Bruce's disappearance. And the crime lords are convinced that Batman is nowhere near Gotham. Haven't you noticed the deaths becoming more gruesome each day? I am going back to the docks, follow my lead," said Nightwing. She recognized the voice. She knew everyone on the team of course.

So the old Robin was dead? What did that mean? Bruce was missing? Surely it would be reported in the papers? He would be in bad shape. Perhaps Batman sought the desolation on purpose. He always did have trouble dealing with loss. And a loss this big would have shattered him. She wanted to reach out to him. All plans dropped, she turned to leave, to go to the docks and follow Nightwing. Then Alfred spoke and she stopped, listening.

"I hear the Joker was involved as well Master Grayson, might I suggest you visit Arkham Asylum and find out what he knows? Lord only knows what that man was up to this time. It was Gordon who caught him. I can only imagine how hard it must have been to carry out his duties as the Commissioner when his daughter's body was found at the scene."

"So this was all Joker? Our friend at the precinct swore to me it was Penguin. I need to know what went down so I can start looking for Bruce. I had a chat with the Lantern today, no one in the JL has heard from Batman either. I wonder how the clown is involved in this. Better check on him too," said Nightwing.

"Leave that to me, boys," said Selina, choosing that moment to show herself. She speedily jumped in, landing lightly on her feet and smiled at the two men standing by the table. Alfred seemed surprised and beamed at her, Nightwing looked rather annoyed.

"Why Miss Kyle, it has been a while. It's good to see you again. Care for some tea?," said Alfred taking a short bow.

"Been listening in again, _Miss_ Kyle?," said Nightwing, emphasising the word. He never did like her. Ever since Bruce had told the entire family of the time she had ambushed him with Bane. Everything was cleared up now, but Dick never trusted her. And he was smart not to. She smiled at him, knowingly.

"So Bruce is missing. And Tim is dead? What was that about the Commissioner's daughter? There have been no reports on this. Anywhere. We need to look for him, he could be hurt. What happened exactly?," she asked.

"Nobody knows. We are trying to find out," said Nightwing. He started walking to the door, without bothering to wait for her reply. His dislike of her involvement was evident.

"If we both work together it'll be faster," she pleaded, "I know you don't trust me. But I can help. Let me visit the Asylum, meet with the Joker. I'll report back and then we can decide if you still want me involved."

"Talking to the Joker would be prudent, Master Nightwing," said Alfred. It was commendable how he changed addressing his masters in the presence of outside company. That's what made him such a good butler, she supposed.

"Fine, you report back from the Asylum. I'll check the docks. Alfred, have Red Hood visit the bars we discussed. He might hear something down there too. I suppose it'll do well to keep Damian out of this for now," said Nightwing, and he walked out. Still irascible.

"Give it time, Miss Kyle," said Alfred. "He is upset that Master Bruce is missing. You _will_ have some tea before you leave?"

"Not tonight, Alfred. But my poison is a dirty martini, for next time," she said, winking. She then leapt to the window. She turned, looking at the butler who picked up the tea set and started walking out of the study.

"And what about you? Aren't you upset he's missing?" she called.

"He'll be back. He always comes back," he said, without turning back. "Good night, Miss Kyle." And then the lights of the study went out.

Arkham was disgusting. And scary. At least that was what she always felt. She hadn't visited this place in ages, and it hadn't changed one bit. Same grimy, green walls, with rats running around everywhere. The prison wards were dirty, and smelled horrible. To spare the guards and the visitors of the horrific inmates, most of these were kept in the dark. No sunlight would reach here, she thought. The walls and the smell made it seem like the fortress was underwater. Even if nothing could be seen, there were sounds, creepy horrible sounds issuing from each cell where she could only guess what would be happening.

She kept walking, making as little noise as possible. Some called out to her. She heard some catcalls but she kept walking. Joker wouldn't be in one of these cells, he would be kept in the glass wards up above where he would be under constant surveillance. He was one of the most dangerous criminals in Gotham and having a chat with him would therefore be a challenge in itself. But first, she had to make sure they were alone. Not watched by cameras, or anyone else.

She had put the guards by the monitors to sleep. But there would be others, a whole lot of them. Prowling the corridors and torturing the inmates was a regular occurrence. This place would have driven them mad too, many sought violence, a place to vent out their frustration. She couldn't take them on. She needed a distraction.

Slowly she climbed the stairs, only stopping to peer around the openings to different floors to make sure the coast was clear. As she reached the "Maximum Security" level, she walked right, remembering to sever the camera at the top. No one would notice. She then walked by the cells, looking for him. A couple of the inmates tried to grab her. And they got a couple of scratches on them for their lack of manners. She loved cats, her smile was content.

"You look fine honey, why don't you come on over," someone shouted at her. Almost everyone was staring through their cages now. Some even walked up to the steel bars and stared at her. Some had the audacity to shout and whistle at her. She ignored them and kept walking.

She went straight to D11-L7516. And there he was, sharpening his knife on the small piece of sharp rock in his cell. He didn't look up, nor did he show any indication that he knew she was there, even though the whistling was getting ridiculous at this point. He kept sharpening his knife, and she wondered how someone could be allowed a weapon in this facility.

"I need a distraction," she said in a voice loud enough to reach him amidst the shouting, banging and the whistling. The noise was getting lower now. And then he looked up. She slid the keys across the cell to him. He chuckled.

"And I need a gun," said Deadshot.

He picked up the keys and unlocked the doors. He stretched out his legs and arms before looking at her. He looked parched, she thought. His beard was uneven and his marker was missing from his eye, which made him look different, like how people seemed so different without their glasses. He had no hair and his dark skin had marks in a number of places. The orange jump suit looked ragged and dirty, with a few cuts near his shoulder blades and elbows. He seemed at ease, like he was here willingly. He was sane, she knew that perfectly well. He was also a perfect marksman.

"There is a guard subdued three floors below by the stairs, he has a gun. Don't free anyone else. I need about ten minutes. I don't care if you run free after that," she said, walking towards the doors with him. He limped slightly but seemed in one piece.

"Try to keep the guards down below L3 as long as you can. The camera crew is out cold so you should be fine," she finished, taking the left at the fork where he would be needed to go down the stairs.

"Is this Bat related?," he asked, pausing at the stairs looking at her.

"What you need to know is that I got you out and you will give me ten minutes worth of distraction," she said, not bothering to look back.

She reached the trap door just as the shooting began behind her. She climbed up the ladder and climbed through the door, closing it behind her. This hall was cylindrical with half of its base broken. There was gushing water in the broken half, the other half led up to a metal door beside which was a fire extinguisher that had a dent in it. A small yellow light flickered near the top of the door. The hall stretched for three floors, with each landing leading off to a different section of the prison. Each landing was marked by a lining of the walls, part of the floor that wasn't destroyed stuck to the circular walls and formed irregular arcs and each one had a door similar to the one on the first landing. On the third and final landing however, the part of the floor was preserved so as to enable walking to the corridor leading off of it to the part of the prison that held the most dangerous criminals. That was where the Joker would be.

There were stairs behind the steel door by the landing but she didn't want to be bothered by them now. She swung up the wall, with little edges that were left by the long destroyed tapestries. This was much easier than last time. She must have climbed 2 floors in less than one sixth of a minute. On the last landing, as she climbed on and walked to the corridor beyond the hall, she heard some voices below her. A stream of guards was running out the steel door on the first landing. She continued, inwardly thankful that she hadn't bothered with the door. The gunslinger's distraction seemed to be working.

As she crossed the corridor, she entered an even bigger hall. It was quiet here, eerily so. Most of the glass cages were empty, some showing permanent acid covered decay. Some of them were occupied. She recognised the habitants immediately, having helped put some of them in here while she worked alongside Batman.

There was Harley Quinn, sleeping away like a baby in her bed with tea cups on the table beside it. In a cage on her right she saw Death Stroke, without his swords and armour. He seemed to be in a daze, staring fixedly at the wall above him, yet his eyes were out of focus. Harvey Dent looked dead in his cage, he slept on the floor with his bad side up. He was the DA of Gotham once, she remembered and this was what had become of him. It was dark enough to barely make out their appearance. All of them were in the orange suits, and all of them looked ill. They must be on sedatives, she thought. She walked past more cages and then saw the Joker sitting in his cage, his smile upside down. She swallowed.

She knocked on his glass cage. He stared up, uninterested. Surprisingly, he was still in his suit. The familiar green jacket and the white collared shirt. His boots were torn and his face looked beaten up. There were many cuts and bruises all over him, and his hair seemed impossible. His clown make-up was missing in places too. And his lips weren't the usual red she remembered. He looked like he could faint any moment. He went back to his silent brooding. Like he didn't care. He didn't joke or laugh, he didn't seem himself. And that worried her.

"What happened - ?," she began, pressing her hand against the glass.

"Still haven't found him, have they?," he asked, dull.

"Wha ... no. He is missing. And so is Penguin. What happened?," she said, still baffled by the Joker's behaviour.

"He's dead," said the Joker. "I poisoned him. And then the Penguin shot him. Twice. Unless they reached the river and he had some water, he's dead. I gave him a strong dosage. Enough to kill an entire city, but the antidote was gone. It saved your pathetic lives instead. I don't think the water would have worked as well."

She stared. She couldn't move. Not for an entire minute. Surely this was another of the clown's stupid jokes. He didn't know what had happened to Bruce. He was found at the scene of crime but Batman was not. Perhaps Batman had taken off after Penguin when Gordon showed up. Perhaps he had arranged it with Gordon beforehand. To take down the two villains. Yet the clown was not his usual self. Something was wrong. She didn't want to know anything anymore from him.

"Did you kill them? The children? Why?," she asked nonplussed.

"It doesn't matter. He won't come back. They died for nothing .. Haha. No, they didn't die. I suppose I killed them. Leave before it starts," he added sadly.

"Before what starts?," she asked, still unfocussed.

And then the sirens blurted out. The hall filled with red light, and the alarms were louder than ever. She could hear footsteps and laughter. Harley Quinn was up and was laughing out like a maniac. Half face was suddenly alert and wandering about in his cage. All the other inmates seemed to be up too. The noise filled the halls like a bunch of bees, increasing exponentially with time.

"Get away from him missy," shouted Harley, looking at Catwoman. "Step away or I will KILL YOU!"

Catwoman turned back to the Joker, he was right where he had been. Just as disinterested. She did not believe it. Bruce couldn't be dead. She moved, going back the way she had come. But there was someone running from the hallway.

The Joker looked up from his reverie. And he saw her frantically looking for a way out. Batman was fond of her and he knew that. He pointed towards the other end - the control room.

"The guards are already dead. You can leave from the emergency exit. Just slide down the path till you see the opening, and then jump out the window on L3, there must be ladder there still .. Ha," he said.

"Just tell me one thing, hmm, does the Penguin live still? Is he alive?," he asked, standing up.

"We don't know. He is nowhere to be found," she shouted, over the sirens as gunshots reached the hall, she then took off in the direction he had pointed. Into the control room and out the slide door, as she slid down into the L3 level, she saw it.

Horde of men charging down the corridor, there were women too. With guns and weapons. They weren't the Arkham guards but the inmates themselves. She took one look at the dead guards and the ones running for their lives and then flew out the window where she was able to get hold of the ladder that still stood there.

She looked down. The men were walking out, charging the streets. The shootout began. The Police were getting shot all across the street. Some were prudent enough to run, others weren't so lucky. This was Chaos. This was what Gotham would be like if there were no Batman. She remembered the Joker's words. _He's dead._ She couldn't move. She just watched. It didn't occur to her to try and save some of the innocent lives there. She felt paralysed, empty and above all frightened. Not of the mob down there, not of the criminals that dominated the streets of Gotham, but frightened of herself. She couldn't believe it. She would keep looking for him, for he was the one who had shown her the way - who had forgiven her time and again, who had been with her all her life. Flashes of memories went through her head. The first night they met when they were just kids, the first time she came to warn him when Maroni put a bounty on his head, their first kiss, the day they fought together for the first time, the day he introduced her to the Bat family as herself and not as Catwoman. She had thought him dead before, but he had always come back. This time would be the same. She just had to wait. For a couple of days, he would be back and fix everything. Unknown to her, a tear made its way down her cheek, and she wiped it off. No, she would have to remain strong and help Nightwing find Batman. Find Bruce. Slowly, she leapt off the ladder, running faster than ever towards the docks.

The docks of Gotham stretched for almost 3 miles. Nightwing aimed to be at Miller Harbour by 21.30. There was going to be a pre-arranged drug bust by some dirty cops only to be taken in by the Falcone later on. He knew how the operation was planned. But tonight he didn't care about catching them and reporting the crime. The thing he was about to do would have to be off the books. He parked his Muscle a safe distance away, then moved in stealth in the direction of the docks.

According to the thug found at the crime scene of Robin and Batgirl's death, the bust was supposed to be ambushed by Penguin's men, which meant someone here would have answers. Seemed like Penguin was getting smarter with his tactics and was giving fair competition to the drug lords of Gotham for his goons showed up precisely on time even in his absence. So they believed he was still alive. That was a good sign, in a way. That meant Batman was in on this too. He would surely have gotten this much out of Penguin.

Dick watched as Penguin's men hid themselves in places to strike. It was almost time. The cop car arrived as scheduled, and three cops got out. One was fat and balding, and was having a difficult time trying to keep up walking with the other two, who seemed of average build, one slightly taller than the other. All three of them were in their blue uniforms, to make it official GCPD business. He felt the disgust on his own face. Cops who swore to protect and serve the city of Gotham with their lives were involved in cheap drug exchanges, muggings and murders throughout the city. Some did it for the money, others in fear. And Batman insisted that nobody be killed. So much for trying to save Gotham, he snorted.

As the cops stood there, waiting for the shipment, and Penguin's men stayed hidden, waiting to take them out, his thoughts wavered over to the events that had taken place about a week before. Robin and Batgirl had died. And no one knew how. Batman had gone missing at the same time. Although his source had sworn that there were three people still alive at the scene, he had been certain that Batman had been badly hurt and poisoned by the Joker when Penguin's party arrived. Nightwing hadn't mentioned this to Alfred, and it troubled him now. Selina had interrupted them. He scowled. She had a knack of getting on his nerves. He had always felt that she was not trustworthy, and ever since she had betrayed Bruce with Bane, he hardly considered her an accomplice. Yet someone had to talk to the Joker, and he couldn't be in two places at once.

But Batman would know how to take care of himself. He would have gotten out and found an antidote for himself. What shocked him was that he had left the Joker alone, and vanished. Wasn't Joker the one who had killed Robin and Batgirl? Wasn't he the one who had killed Jason a long time ago? Sure Jason was now alive and kicking as Red Hood but, Batman had been furious when he had found out what Ra's had done to bring Jason back from the dead. He would never allow Tim to be brought back the same way. He tried not to think about it, but couldn't stop. Tim had been a great Robin, always eager to learn and take on bad guys. Having once been Robin himself, he knew what it felt like to be in the Dark Knight's shadow. To feel the constant need to prove oneself worthy of being Batman's sidekick. Tim was kind too, unlike Damian or Jason. More like himself, Dick thought and smiled. And he kept the spirit alive at the Wayne manor. Vengeance burned within him, but he knew how to control it. Batman had taught him too well, and for the longest time than anyone else. But there would be punishment, a proper judge and jury would decide and he couldn't see a way for Joker to get out of this one. Even if it had to be done the wrong way, it was not his right to bring Justice for Tim. It would have to be Batman, but then again with Batman there would only be one way - the fair one. He stood there remembering Tim and wondering how Batman could endure so much pain without breaking, and that was when the boat arrived.

It looked like a Grady white Express 370 with six men, all carrying heavy ammunition. From the other side of the docks, Falcone's cavalry arrived. Two Ford Anglias, with 4 men in each vehicle, heavily armed. Dick relaxed. This was a shootout waiting to happen, yet he had no intention of intervening. He surmised how this was all going to go down.

The men in the cars got down and approached the cops. Two of them slapped the fat cop on the back like they were buddies and he returned the favor, all of them guffawing. Couple of them seemed drunk, poor state of mind when coming to a fight. But then they did not know that they were walking head-on into a trap.

"Al' good, Fusco?," one of the men asked the fat cop, coming forward and shaking his hand.

"Yeah, everything seems in order. But we gotta bust you boys, keep the shipment for ourselves," said the cop mockingly, and together they all burst into fits of laughter. Clapping and bumping into each other stupidly. Nightwing was getting impatient. He pursed his lips, adjusting his binoculars so he could count the party's adversaries. It wasn't going to be an even fight. Even with the Cops, Carmine's men would be outnumbered two to one, easily.

The boat docked. And the men within came out to meet out to complete the exchange. Three men from the boat carried what seemed to be a large crate. After about two minutes, the crate was placed in front of the men and opened. Large blocks of Cocaine cut precisely to the size of ordinary bricks were placed in heaps.

"Good haul boys," yelled Fusco. "Let's get to work, shall we?"

They began by opening up the cars' trunks and getting half a dozen suitcases from each one. Then, they filled the suitcases with the bricks of Cocaine, some of them occasionally getting a sniff of the merchandise. When all the cases were filled up and loaded on to the cars, almost half the large crate still remained filled with the white bricks.

"We'll get the remaining to Carmine in a couple of days. No harm no foul. What'chya say Larson?," Fusco panted closing the car trunk after placing the last case.

"Sounds good, and remember it's always gotta be less than 15 pounds. And keep the dogs away huh Mell boy. Wouldn't want any incidents like last time," said Larson. He then walked up to the car and got something out. A duffelbag,

"200 large in there, as agreed."

He then handed the bag to one of the men from the boat. Without another word, they left the way they had come. The man with the bag opening it as he went.

"Quarter of the haul is yours as discussed, Fusco. Should be more than enough to pay every dirty cop on Carmine's payroll. And don't you keep anything for yourself you dirty scumbag or I'll know. Use the remaining to bust up Maroni's boys. You can _find_ evidence can't you? You're a cop," Larson said.

And they all burst out laughing again.

"Help us put it in the trunk will ya?," called Fusco, joining in the laughing. "Let's get outta here."

"Oh you won't be going anywhere," said Fish. She walked up to the scene as everyone drew their guns and pointed it right at her. She almost seemed bored, ignoring the guns and kept walking, looking at the cops, and the men intently. Her eyes then fell on the crate. "That's a bit more than you can handle, isn't it?"

Fish Mooney was a gangster that owned a nightclub downtown. She had shoulder length hair with a little red in it, like blood had been splattered on it when she had killed someone previously and she hadn't bothered to wash it up. Her slender figure made her attractive with a long face that had high cheekbones. Her eyes glowed in the darkness and she seemed, at the moment, defenceless. Although she had been working for Falcone almost all her life, there had been a recent spat, and she had chosen to build her own army. And ever since her umbrella boy had become so powerful, she had almost always sided with him. So Penguin wasn't here but his number two was. Nightwing cursed inwardly. This was going to be a waste of time.

"Hello Fish," said Larson. "Falcone's been worried about you. Where you been?"

"Falcone worries about me? Please Larr, don't make me laugh. The last time I saw that bastard, he told me he'd kill me himself if I wasn't dying already. Lucky me, I had an admirer who saved my life and now I work for him. Tell your boss thanks for the donation. We will make sure all the contributions are made in his name," said Fish, pointing at their haul. Still seemingly unconcerned about the guns pointed at her, she walked about among the men, occasionally touching someone and muttering something to them. Larson seemed to think that there was no immediate threat in her as he had lowered his gun as soon as he had seen her walk up to him.

Penguin's men emerged. One by one. Soon there were enough at the scene to make Falcone's men see sense. They stared at each other nervously. Except for Larson, he seemed to be in command.

"Let's not make this messy. You want this? Take it and let us walk," he said.

"No, no. I like messes. You see Larr, I am not here for the Cocaine. Well I am.. heh.. what am I saying? But I am also here to make a statement. It's time for new rule. Falcone will get my message. No one needs to deliver it. Your bodies would be enough. But I do need these cops to carry out exactly what you told them to. Except when you pay your pals, you'll tell them that the money is from me. Fish. And not Falcone. You hear me? Let me give you a clearer perspective on what will happen if you don't do exactly as I say."

She took a gun from one of her men. And pointed it straight at Fusco. Nightwing could see him sweating and shaking. The other two cops looked relieved, slightly. She clocked the gun.

"But you're already afraid of me," she said looking at Fusco, who was shaking all around, he started crying almost instantly.

"Please ... please ... I got kids ... please"

She promptly turned the gun on the tall, muscular cop who was smirking at Fusco's whimpered sobs and shot him in the eye. Nightwing stood up, shocked. She hadn't killed him yet. The cop cried out, hopping around on the spot so she shot him in the knee caps. As he fell, clutching his eye that was overflowing with blood, she proceeded to kneel beside him. She started scraping out his other eye with her knife. The others watched in horror and still Nightwing didn't intervene. She opened up the eyeball and held it in her hand, examining it as the poor man shouted out in agony. Dropping the eyeball in her overlong coat, she finally stabbed him in his gut, repeatedly. Until no sound came out of him. His blood drenched the sand, seeping through it hungrily. Fish then wiped her hand over her mouth, licking the blood.

"Like I said, I love messes. You two," she pointed at the cops with her knife. "You know what needs to be done with the Cocaine?"

They nodded, unable to speak. Both seemed to be out of their wits, and Nightwing seemed certain that Fucso had wet his pants. Slowly they closed the crate and carried it to their car. One of them opened the trunk and they then put it inside together.

"Don't look back now. Keep drivin'," she called. The cop car pulled out of the driveway and then sped off.

"So darling," she turned to Larson, "how would you like leave this place? Quick and Easy? Slowly? I'll give you a choice since I've known you for a while now. Don't worry. Falcone won't miss you. He trusts old Johnny boy more than you now, doesn't he? Gave you a petty job from the likes of it," she laughed.

"Go to hell!," Larson said. "Penguin's dead. You think you're the boss now? They'll rip you to pieces before you reach home, Fish. Let us go and we'll have your back. Falcone still owes you. He will protect you. Join us."

"Dead? Heh ... Dead? Who t'is that's dead? Me? No no no no. I ain't dead sonny. Is t'at wha' teyr'e sayin'? Penguins dead? Haha it worked den din' it? Baha .. Wha' happen' las? T'ey chew it up? Hmm?," said a voice, issuing from one of the dark containers.

Nightwing froze. It was Penguin. Slowly he emerged from the depths of the container, from the darkness, limping on his wooden leg and leaning on his umbrella, as repellent as ever. He laughed his stupid laugh and the others joined in. Slowly he made his way to the very centre of Falcone's men. He then hit Larson in the shins with his umbrella, hard. Larson faltered, falling on his knees and throwing up blood.

"I asked ya is t'at wha' tey bin saying," he roared.

"Ugnn .. yes .. yeah ... that's what they're saying. All over Gotham. You was' killed by the Batman and thrown in the river," muttered Larson, through his blood covered mouth. "Never meant no disrespect sir."

"Oho! Sir? Ya see t'at Fish, he callin' me Sir. Yer buddy boy Larson is callin' me sir. He's a smart 'ne, jus' like ya said Fish. He is. Bleh .. Falcon's finish'd boy, ya hear me? Kill 'em"

"Walk wi't me Fish," he gestured at her. Together they began walking towards a black sedan that was waiting quarter of a mile up ahead. It was there then that he'd have to question them, thought Nightwing. He didn't have time to save Falcone's men from their fate right now. He had more important things to take care of. Like questioning Penguin. He called Officer Mahoney.

"Hello ..."

"Hello M, this is Nighwing. I am down by the docks at Miller Harbour. There is a situation that the GCPD needs to handle. This involves Falcone's men and Penguin's by dock 926, hurry .. "

He said it all in a rush. Not sure if M had caught everything. However he need not have worried. Mahoney responded in the affirmative.

"Will be there in 10. Are you sticking around?"

"No. I have somewhere else to be. Just don't be late. And bring a lot of backup .."

He hung up. He then shot 3 warning shots at the crowd. Making everyone scatter and fire their weapons randomly in alarm. Hopefully this would give Falcone's men enough time to hold off until the cops showed up. He didn't waste time to see if his plan had worked and plunged down the building, landing on an advertisement board smoothly. He had to hurry, the car was already speeding up the highway. As he ran after his quarry, with increased agility, he saw that he had competition. Catwoman was up front, almost reaching for the car. She did have a habit of interfering in important work. He grit his teeth and sped up, closing the gap between them.

"You were supposed to be at Arkham," he shouted.

She didn't reply but leaped in the air, just like a cat and slashed at the vehicle's tires. The car swerved out of path, losing its momentum and then, as expected, the shooting began. Penguin's bodyguards were shooting at them from the front of the car. As he ducked to miss the bullets he saw that Catwoman was still on the chase, not caring enough to dodge the bullets. She threw what seemed to be small, spherical ball through the back window shield which was broken and slowed down. Suddenly the car filled with white gas, Nightwing stared, impressed. He was still behind and sped up to stop the car from crashing. Catwoman mirrored him. Together they yanked the front doors of the car open, and pulled out the two bodyguards. The car was still moving, although it was slowing down considerably. And then Penguin and Fish both took over and started shooting at them. Both of them let go, as the moving car came to an abrubt stop. Penguin came out shooting out of his umbrella, and Fish had a shot gun up her sleeve and spun around on the spot, looking for the perpetrator.

Catwoman was nowhere to be seen. Nightwing had to admit that it was useful to have her on their side in fights. He remained by the arched pillar, waiting for the shooting to stop.

"Come out ya sidekik. I'll kill ya the s'me way I killed Batman," yelled Penguin.

Nightwing froze for the second time that night. Yet recovered quickly. Clearly Penguin had heard the story go around that Batman was nowhere in Gotham, and had decided to give himself the credit for his absence. But why was everyone back but Batman?

"Yer missin' him aren' ya. T'ats why ya came after me."

There was a shout, a woman's. And then a couple of gun shots and then all was still. Fish seemed to have fallen to the ground with no one in the vicinity. Apparently Catwoman had decided to intervene again. Fish took her time getting up. Her gun was gone. And to his surprise, he found that Catwoman was a few feet to his left, behind the next arch. Holding the gun. She peeked around and fired. There was a low moan that told him that the bullet had found its mark. Penguin was clutching his leg, near the place where his wooden leg connected to his broken one. Fish held him tight so he wouldn't fall.

Nightwing picked up a trash lid and held it up as protection. He then chose to run straight at the car, smartly dodging the bullets fired at his legs as the trash lid protected his face and torso. As soon as he was close enough, he smashed the lid at the couple. Both fell and the firing stopped at once. He dragged Fish away from Penguin and threw her aside. Later, he proceeded to pick Penguin up and punch him in the face repeatedly until Penguin couldn't make sense of what was going on. He then threw the body to the ground. Breathing heavily.

Catwoman had taken care of Fish by then. She had Fish handcuffed behind her back in a kneeling position. From the looks of it, she didn't seem to have gone to any trouble in doing so.

Normally, such a situation would mean a witty cheek on her part for a job well accomplished, but she came straight to Penguin.

"Where is he?," she asked. The panic in her voice wasn't hidden anymore. And Nightwing empathized with her.

"Yer bo't wastin' yer times. Bat is dead. I killed him. I shot 'im. Twice. In the chest. He ain't comin' back."

"WHERE .. IS ..HE?!," she shouted, saying each word with a carefully placed punch. He heard the ribs crack under his hold and almost felt sorry for the mob boss.

"Ar ... eh ... I told ye. Batman's dead. I killed 'im. I did. Ask the Joker, he wa t'ere. I ain't lying. I swear," he said, through the pain.

She continued to pound at him, breaking what was left. Nightwing stopped her. He thought he saw tears in her eyes, through the mask. She turned away.

"We need information," he told her before turning back to the Penguin on the ground. "What happened there exactly? Tell me now or I won't stop her again."

"T'was simple. The clown had already poisoned 'im. All I had ter to was get rid of t'at antidote, an' I did. T'ats all I did. And w'en he tried to kill me, I killed 'im firs'. T'at all," Penguin blurted out.

"You can't lie to me. I'm not Batman. I can kill you. I don't give second chances. Or third. And you have used up more than that Penguin. So there's nothing stopping me from killing you now but the truth," said Nightwing, slightly losing his temper now.

"I swear. T'ats truth. T'ats 'onest to God. Ma Mamma. T'ats wha' happened down t'ere."

Nighwing banged his victim's head against the car, making him go all fuzzy. He then landed straight shots on Penguin's chest, with force that could puncture some of the arteries. Pretty soon Penguin started throwing up.

"Ask t'er clown. Ask 'im. T'ats what happenedd ... t'ats w'at ... uh .. bleh .."

Dick raised his hand, ready to go again. He did not believe it. That couldn't have happened. Not in this universe. Not in any universe.

"It's true."

He never expected her to speak out like this. Selina was walking away from them, towards Fish. She seemed determined, angry and calm at the same time. Like someone deciding to do what was right rather than that which comes easy.

"What do you mean?," he shot back at her.

"The Joker said the same thing to me. He is not lying."

"You're losing it. Batman cannot die."

"Yes, he cannot," she said. She went to Fish without turning back. The gun was still with her. She aimed it at Fish's head.

"Who else knows? Who knows that he's dead?"

"What? Just us. And no one else. We will keep it th-"

The shot echoed in the cold dark night. Fish Mooney died an instant death with a bullet to her skull. Catwoman turned, now aiming the same gun at Penguin.

"Did you know who he was? Did you see him? His face?," she said, slowly walking towards them.

Nightwing subdued Penguin, holding him in place. "Catwoman you cannot kill criminals. Have you forgotten - ?"

"Did you know who he was?," she almost shouted the question. Tears streaming her eyes now.

"Bruce Wayne. T'was Wayne. Please," sobbed Penguin, with his free hand shielding his face. Nightwing looked at Cobblepot in shock, momentarily losing all thought. He felt oddly detached from the conversation. From his own body, even. So it was true? He looked at Selina, almost mechanically. She believed it to be true. He could see it in her face. In her tears and in her movement. And he knew that it had to be the truth.

Selina shot him, just as Nightwing pushed the gun aside from her hand. Penguin was shot in his stout belly. He yelled out in pain. Whimpering like a mouse in pain, his breathing quickened.

"Ma case ... In the back seat," he said, slowly.

Catwoman moved to retrieve the case. She got it out of the back seat and slammed it on the trunk. It had a 3 numbered pin as password.

"6-2-7," muttered Penguin.

She quickly put the pin into the case and it opened up. Peering inside they found the latest Batsuit, torn to pieces. The mask was broken in half and only the smaller half remained. Most of the gadgets were gone, except for a few Batarangs and the utility belt which was heavily damaged.

Nightwing looked at Catwoman, his horror reflected in her eyes. Finally, the truth. Batman was gone. He was gone for good.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

The Dark Knight Returns

The Joker sat in his den. It had been two days since the mayhem at Arkham Asylum. Every criminal now roamed the streets of Gotham freely, without being concerned about being caught and put back in prison. The GCPD had suffered heavy losses, with more than a hundred dead cops, and several injured. Dons Maroni and Falcone were on the run. Or they probably had been caught and killed, either way they were MIA. Penguin now ruled the streets and the power house of Gotham.

He shifted his position and sighed. Every weapon owned by him was now set on the floor in this room. There must have been at least five dozen guns, more knives and blades than he could count and grenades that he didn't want to count. They were all pointing at him, at least the ones that had pointy ends. And he sat there cross legged, gloomy and miserable. Harley had tried to cheer him up a couple of times, and now she was nowhere to be seen. She was probably angry with him. But he found that it didn't bother him much now. Now that Bats was gone, the world made much less sense than it did before. Not that there was much to be begin with.

He hadn't moved in two days, staying in the exact same spot, just shifting his position now and again. Sleep eluded him. Usually, he never knew when he fell asleep. But it was always there – the exhaustion. And it was regular and infuriatingly frequent, but now he found that there wasn't a need to sleep. There wasn't a need to stay awake either. He was just ... there. His mind thought of the things he had done over the years. The pointless things, and that was the point. There had never been a need for things to make sense. To show the low lives a higher way of living, the one beyond normalcy. Beyond fancy things and relationships. Beyond caring and loss, and trust and rules. And that's where Batman had come in. Batman. He kept the Joker in check. Every fight, every disagreement flashed through his mind. There was no one else who understood him better, in the whole wide world. And now that one person was gone forever. He knew it in his heart, even though at that very moment, a number of search parties were still looking for Batman all across Gotham and other territories. Hope again .. bleh.

Batman was the one who brought balance to the world, at least to his world .. haha. The Joker liked Balance. Something that made sense to him. He did things not because they were evil, but because they didn't make sense. They were neither here nor there. They were balanced. Good and Evil was just a separation made by the foolish humans who believed what they did was good, and what they didn't (or most like couldn't) do was bad. But the line between them had become so blurred now that nobody knew anymore. But things that didn't make any sense were neither good nor bad. He was an agent of chaos. Destruction and Injustice were just his methods that added fun to it. And that was what attracted Batman to him. Like a bee looking for honey, like the poles of a magnet. Well, like Good and Bad. Haha.

But no matter what he did now, no one would be there to balance it out. There was no point in doing what he did anymore. The world was changing and he wasn't sure if he belonged to this world. The one without Batman. He shot another one of Penguin's goons down. His men had caught a dozen of Penguin's men trying to blast his den out to kill him. They were now tied upside down, six on either end of the room in a line. He had already killed ten of them, sequentially from left to right. Two remained. He could hear their muffled breathing even through the dark masks that had been put on them. Fear. Some other things made sense, he smiled. He aimed at the guy on his left. Wait ... that wasn't fair.

"Inky ... Pinky ... Donkey," he muttered. "Penguin ... had ... a ... hanky ... hmmm ... Donkey ... cried ... and ... Penguin ... died"

He shot the guy on the right in his head. Blood poured from the cloth, like it had before, with the other bodies. Eleven down, one to go he thought.

Someone knocked on the door. Ugh .. he had told them not to disturb him ever again. His men entered. They stood as far away from him as possible.

"Sir ... found this by the door sir ... ," one of them blabbered and placed a leather case in front of him.

"Open it"

The shaking fool moved forward and slowly opened the case and turned it towards him. Something black was visible through it. Something dark and broken, and ripped to pieces by the looks of it. Yet it looked strangely familiar. Almost like a beloved possession, a nemesis.

"Who left it here?" he said, automatically reaching for it. He knew exactly what it was - the Batsuit. The one donned by Batman on that fateful day. He examined the broken mask carefully, closely looking at every inch of it. And then he took the suit in his hands, running his hand on the Bat symbol.

"Get out," he said.

They scattered out, scared of him. Typical humans, he thought. Always scared of what was too big for their little minds. He tried to laugh, but couldn't manage. Well, that was a first.

He picked up the mask again, dropping the suit back into the suitcase. It was plain black, a broken transmitter hanging near the ear piece buzzing uneven frequencies, beeping with a blinking red light. There was also a small casing in the other ear, he ripped it open. It was a black wooden box. Try as he might, he couldn't open it. He threw it on the floor, proceeding to wear the mask. With a little effort, he was able to put it on. Glancing through the one remaining eye piece was different, more focussed. He moved to the mirror on the other side of the room and looked at himself. His smile was visible on the broken half of the mask and his left eye along with most of the upper side of his left face was covered in the Bat's mask.

"He ... ho ... ha ... "

He laughed, slowly at first and then it became louder and more intense. The maniac took over and he couldn't stop laughing. He looked at himself and laughed, falling to the floor. Tears streamed down in his eyes, and still he laughed. So Bats had had the last laugh after all. He took off the mask and stared at it laughing.

He walked over to the last man that was still alive and took the cloth off his head. The mobster was gagged and tried to say something, only noise issuing from his mouth.

"Be a good lad, won't you?" the Joker said, smiling. He then shot the rope that held the man upside down so that he fell to the floor with a loud thud. The man then proceeded to run out of the room, still tied up and positively whimpering.

"Ah ... well ... you can't help everyone ... hehe"

He then put the mask back in the case and locked it. Before leaving however, he picked up the small black box, knowing exactly what was in it.

It took all his might to jump over the river to land safely in the opening within the water fall. The Joker got up slowly, feeling the pain in his ribs. They hadn't healed properly yet. There was nothing here. Except for the damp earth and the dark walls. Yet he was sure that this was the place. He could barely make out an opening a little further down the tunnel. He walked slowly toward it, limping slightly as he went. At the opening, he took the right fork, and kept walking. The stroll proved to be slippery and dangerous, but he kept at it. After he had walked continuously for about a quarter of an hour, he could hear them. Their sound was of the dark, and the dead. The mammals of the night with red glowing eyes emerged, only a couple at first and then there were more, clinging to a dark ceiling that wasn't visible. There were hordes of them, all chanting in rhythm as he entered the clearing. It was a pleasant sound to have around if you were hunting the bad guys, he laughed.

The path ended abruptly, with a fall high enough to scare even the most adventurous mountaineer. Looking down he saw the plain surface of water, it stretched for about few tens of meters to a clearing at the other end. A short distance beyond the clearing there were stone steps that opened up to a very bright light.

Without a second thought, he jumped, diving expertly into the pool. And then he emerged, the makeup running down his face. He swam to the shore at a reasonable pace and then climbed up the rock. As he started walking to the stone steps ahead of him, he saw that on the linings of both the walls there were lights, dim at first but they grew brighter as he walked by them. He stepped up into the bright light and was almost blinded, his eyes adjusted to the surroundings, and he saw the insides of the Batcave for the very first time.

"Hmmm ... hmmm, " he hummed to himself in the silence. And his voice echoed, around the clearing.

There was too much to take in so he focussed on the large screen at the centre of the opposite end of the room. He saw a large face of himself staring back at him. Oh Bats, you really did miss me when we weren't together, he thought. Haha .. On the right half of the screen there was information, a ton of it, about himself. He moved closer, intrigued. He read through the content, occasionally laughing at the inaccuracies he came across – Known associates : Harley Quinn? Bwaha ... she was more than that Batsy, Weapon of choice : Crowbar, well he liked guns and knives too, and Places : 313 st SW, Jokes and Laughs, Arkham Asylum? He frowned. He banged his hand on the counter and suddenly the screen changed.

Riddler. There was Nygma's picture, he looked cunning and smart as ever. Real Name : Edward Nygma, blah blah blah ... Affiliated to Secret Six ... Weapon of Choice : Question mark guns, Cane and Exploding jigsaw pieces ... Previous job : Analyst at GCPD? Hehe ... He remembered the last time he had a chat with smarty pants. Always asking questions, always with the riddles ... yuck. Yet Riddler had given Joker the exact way to trap Batman and his sidekicks which had enabled him to kill Robin and, though he did not expect her to be with them, Batgirl. But Penguin had intervened, like the nosy bastard he was, and everything was now ruined. Well, not everything. He quickly skimmed through the list of Batman's adversaries, stopping at Cobblepot's file and examining it. He looked for places that Penguin spent most of his time at and bingo – the lonely mermaid. Fish's nightclub by the Gotham bay, downtown.

As he was about to turn around to have a better look at the Batcave, he happened to glance, almost absently, at one line in the contents about Penguin. Known Associates: Fish Mooney, Carmine Falcone, the Riddler ... he stared at the one name for almost a minute. Of course, Penguin and the Riddler had worked together. How could Penguin have pulled it on his own? He could never have known the time and the place to arrive at, and would never have had the wits to wait, till both he and the Batman were most vulnerable, to attack. This was all the Riddler. How smart, and easy - to hire a gun to kill the Batman, when he knew the Joker would have already weakened him, and in case Penguin failed to kill the Batman, the Joker would be dead meaning Bats would never be able to trace the mastermind behind all this. Very clever, Nygma.

He stormed the Batcave, looking for weapons. He had to find them both, and kill them. He ignored all the other gadgets and screens around him and moved up the flight of stairs at the very corner of the hall. This led to a smaller, well-maintained room. Whatever light was in the room came from the ceiling itself. It wasn't too bright, yet it cast multiple shadows of him all around, some darker than others. As he looked around, he saw the older Robin's uniform placed carefully inside a circular glass casing, his own words glared at him from the front of the uniform - "The joke's on you, Batman". He remembered having written those words, a long time ago, after he had killed the older Robin. That was a good joke, he laughed again, remembering how Batman had resorted to killing after that.

He walked past the uniform, only to look at a bunch of other ones. The end of this hall had a semi-circular curve to it, with about seven different divisions. Each division had a glass casing, with a different Bat costume in each one, except for the very last division. That was empty. The Joker moved to the one in the very center and stared at it. The classic suit that Batman had on for the longest time on record. And that was his favourite. It had a certain familiarity and a feeling of home he could never explain. He stood and stared at it for a while, and in the reflection he saw that the mask covered part of his face and the rest of him, his smile widened.

"I never did like that time of your life, Master Bruce. Remember the late nights and the constant wounds you endured? You should have mentioned you were going to be back today, I would have prepared dinner."

The Joker almost jumped when he heard the voice. It would be the infamous butler, he thought, and didn't turn around. He heard the approaching footsteps as the butler made his way down another set of stairs that was hidden well. It probably led to the mansion beyond.

"Sir? .."

The Joker turned, the smile still in place. "Such good manners ... hmmm ... now, now I _would_ like some dinner, Mr. Butler. How about a trick first?"

"Oh my ... ," said Alfred, taking out his gun in an instant. He ducked behind the table, dropping the tray he was carrying. It hit the floor with a sharp clang that echoed all around. "Where is Batman?"

"Haha, that was quick. Bruce is dead, Alfred. The Penguin killed him, and I will destroy that excuse for a human being. No need to worry .. Hehe"

"Batman cannot be gone. But I will make sure you'll pay for what you have done to all those families. What you did to Master Robin," said Alfred firing his gun at the place Joker had occupied seconds ago.

The Joker leaped for cover quickly. He did not want to kill the poor Butler, but if need be he would. He shifted his position quickly, a peek here, a laugh there. The man fired at him, always missing by a second or two. Well trained, he thought to himself. Former military, but too old to keep up with him. He counted the bullets, 6 done. He moved to strike. As he reached the old man's hiding spot, something hit him hard in the head. He lost balance momentarily before clubbing the man behind his head. As Alfred fell unconscious, the Joker stumbled for balance, holding the table to steady himself.

He glanced at the study one last time, preparing to go up to the Wayne Manor. Some of the books seemed to have fallen out of the case as he was fumbling to get rid of the butler. He stared at the empty space between books in the case, there in the very middle was a switch, a simple switch painted red. Would that cause explosions somewhere? He laughed and flipped it. Part of the floor moved. Just beyond Robin's casing, a circular portion of the floor popped open and something was emerging out of it, revolving about itself, slowly.

At last he knew what had to be done. The crowd was huge and always moving. He stood up on the Giant wheel, and it was revolving slowly. As his cart neared the top, he looked at the crowd again. So peaceful and restive on a Sunday they were, haha, well not for much longer. Almost enough people had been ushered into the circus tent, his men had specific instructions and Harley would make sure they worked seamlessly as they were supposed to.

He jumped off the cart as it was nearing the ground. Several people screamed, but he walked it off, heading straight for the Circus tent. As he entered the back stage, he heard the screams, people calling out for help. But no help would come here. Hehe. He then tied himself up to the only chair kept backstage. One of his men tightened the knots and left and he waited in anticipation.

Then the moment arrived. Three people entered the clearing – a man, a woman and a child. The child was shivering in shock, and when it looked at him, the fear intensified. One of his men, covered in a simple dark mask came up from the other end, with a gun in his hand. He then shot the man first, in the chest. The woman rushed to the man's aid, weeping. She screamed something at the man, and then he shot her too. The criminal bolted from the scene. The child stood there, scared and alone. It started crying after a while, and someone came up and took it away. And then the scene repeated with a new couple and a different kid. Blood ran freely in the path, and every time a new set of people arrived, the Joker studied them, tried to understand. Tried to relive Bruce's past.

Yet he did not understand. More and more Samaritans were slaughtered in his wake and his knowledge remained incomplete as ever. This seemed fun, how could it be traumatising? He ordered his men to gas every child with the Joker toxin. Every time the parents were killed, the child would burst out laughing. And the laughing never stopped. The child's face was permanently marked with a smile and its teeth always showed, but still he could not help but enjoy the show. He barked at them to stop. This wasn't working. He needed his own tragedy.

Plan B. He needed a doze of sanity. And he got it. Harley injected the drug into him. It was the exact opposite of Joker toxin, a cure for those who wished to forget and live a normal life. Although, it never truly made the madness go away, it made them forget those times and remember their old lives again. And with a little effort, those injected with it could hope to forget the demons of their past. This was the last resort. He was injected with the drug again, and again and again. Was it working? He did not feel any different.

"More!," he barked.

"But Mr.J, you said this is a bad one ... ," Harley began.

"Do it! More of it! ..."

And so they put some more of it into him. His muscles relaxed, but there was no particular change as far as he was concerned. And now he remembered. Bit by bit at first. But he did. His first home ... flashes of it ... his mum and dad ... the dog.

There was Batman right in front of him. And someone was shooting at him. He had to save the Batman. He tried to move, but couldn't. What was happening? Then he saw himself moving towards Batman, but there was someone else, someone other than him, lurking in the shadows. The man who was shooting. A large man came into focus and he shot at the Batman, as Batman lunged at him. And then both vanished in the shadows. And he saw himself stand there, helpless and unable to move. The lights went out.

The scene repeated. There was Batman. He was there too. In his suit, boots and makeup. Yet he stood by as someone appeared and killed the Batman. The chair holding him shook, he tried to break free. He could have saved the Batman. He could have saved Bruce. And the lights went out again.

Again and again he watched as the Batman was killed and he stood by doing nothing. He had to do something, anything. He had to save him. There was no definitive proof that Batman was dead. Perhaps Batman managed to escape on his own. Before he could come to a fair conclusion however, the same thing happened all over again. And he lost Batsy again. The chair was wobbling too violently now, and he understood what he was supposed to understand – Pain. Pain was bad, why would someone do this to him? Why would someone kill the Batman? Everyone feared the Batman, except for himself. But the pain was real, and it was killing him. He snapped and screamed, at last breaking free of the bindings that held him together.

He found the large man, terror inflicted on the poor man's face. Yes, terror was right because the Joker was about to kill him. He picked up the crowbar in the sand and clubbed the man, repeatedly hitting him in the face long after he was dead. Blood oozed out, and he didn't stop. Nobody could take the Batman away from him. Not even himself. He kept on hitting the dead man. Reality stuck and filled him with remorse. Batman was truly gone, so that was what it felt like to truly lose someone. Someone dear and equal. Tears streamed down his eyes before he could stop them. The World had ended so why was he still breathing? He called out into the night. Someone. Anyone. He had to save the Batman, there was some poison involved, he remembered. He needed the antidote but Batman was gone. He ran around the place, searching and found no one. And when he came back there was no corpse of the man he had just slaughtered. He pulled his hair out, this was not what he had wanted. He needed everything to stop. Please. The loss was too much. He could not live like this. Not without Batman. Please kill me, he thought. His breath came out in sharp whiffs, as he realised he didn't know where he was. There was only ... Darkness. His mind sought understanding while his heart was out for revenge. Before his end, he had to find out who did this to him. Who did this to Batman. And pay them back. He was on his knees now, and was slowly losing consciousness.

"Heh ... sleepy sleepy," he muttered, before all thoughts went out.

It was cold. Too cold. Men couldn't survive in it for long. Yet, what was cold? A feeling? A physical sensation? Yes, he would have to agree on that. For the moment, his hands and legs seemed to have no feeling at all, because of the cold. Or so he presumed. Yet he was moving. How? He didn't have the faintest clue .. Haha.

After a while, he could finally open his eyes. It caused too much pain but, he had to know where he was. He saw snow, and a little stone. Someone was carrying him up a mountain. Actually there were two sets of hands, one on either side of him. They pulled him by his hands, his feet hitting the stone below. He let himself be lost again. It was hard to keep his eyes open in the wind, and every other sound was muffled. All that could be heard was the snowy wind.

The next time he woke up, it was warmer. There was a fire nearby and his hands were tied above his head with a rope. And he felt hunger and thirst like never before. He couldn't remember his name, so he gave up trying to figure out who he was. His legs were tied too, he realised, now that he could feel them again. Someone was watering a plant nearby. The man had an average build, and was wearing what seemed to be a faded green Japanese kimono. On his belt there was a sword with a satin, black sheath. As he watered the plant, it seemed to grow in front of the Joker's eyes, brightening up despite the absence of Sun.

"You seek him, that is why you are here," said the man.

The man turned to look at the Joker and he recognised him immediately. Ra's al Ghul, the man who had trained Batman.

"Is this you? Do you understand me?," Ra's said.

"Do I? Heh ... I do," said Joker.

"Strange. You seem ... different. You have woken up thrice before in your sleep and didn't know who you were," said Ra's, slowly walking toward him.

"Didn't know who I was? Hehe ... I still don't know who I am."

Ra's stared at him curiously before replying.

"You don't even know why you are here do you?"

"You seem to know it. Humour me. Not like I can get off these by myself any time soon .. hmmm?", he said, shaking his hands to indicate the bindings that held him.

"You really are a madman. Willing to go so far to seek him? That is true obsession, something I know a bit about. This path would require resolution and belief. Things you don't have. Things you cannot fathom. I admit I admire your tenacity but it's not enough."

The Joker didn't reply. Everything was coming back to him now. It was slow, understanding came faster than his thoughts, as he recalled everything that happened since Bat's death. He couldn't figure out what was real and what was not. It was truly draining, and he was on the verge of falling unconscious again.

"Balance," he whispered, his head hung low.

Ra's eyes widened. He looked like he was about to say something. But then when the Joker looked at him again, he looked as grave as ever.

"There must be ... Balance," said the Joker again. "There's always a Batman."

"There is always a Joker," said Ra's.

"Bleh heh ... so we agree."

"I see that we do. Though I must warn you, you will not remember."

"I know ... haha," laughed the Joker. He then lifted his head up, the smile wide on his face. "Shall we begin?"

Gotham had changed. There was no denying it. The streets were no longer safe. The police assisted the crimes rather than stop them. Even homeless men carried guns these days, and reports of murder were a daily occurrence. No one from the state intervened, which made matters worse. Arkham Asylum was no longer a place for the insane, instead honest cops and their families were imprisoned in its cells until they listened to _proper_ sense and agreed to help the mob control the city. Helping the innocent fell entirely on the vigilantes. And not that many of them were left at this point. Nightwing had taken up the responsibility of filling Batman's shoes though he refused to wear the cape of the former crusader. Red Hood was acting out, like he didn't care, beating up mob forces in random bars and corners.

Selina still had trouble believing it sometimes. It had been more than half a year since Batman's disappearance. And everyone knew the story by now. Penguin ruled the Gotham streets, his thugs collecting the _extra tax_ imposed by him for protecting Gotham. Nobody dared to challenge him. Don Maroni was dead, killed by Penguin's men while trying to escape. Surprisingly, Falcone had survived, and he was building his own army from ground up. If only they had killed Penguin on that night, she thought miserably. Nightwing had taken him to the hospital, muttering something about a No-Killing rule. She twisted her face in disgust. They never truly understood, they never got that there was no real Justice in the world. Having grown up in Gotham slums she knew who got Justice. Only the rich. So, she had decided to pass her own judgement on people. She stole from the rich, and fed herself.

She had run into Nightwing a couple of days ago. The regret of saving Cobblepot was evident in his face. He had told her that the mobs were getting stronger and larger. Just the other day he was beaten up for trying to be a hero. He only made it alive because Red Hood had intervened while she had watched from a distance, debating with herself if she should save the poor man's life. But this life wasn't for her anymore. She had ignored the last two calls from both Nightwing and Alfred. They were probably calling to ask for her assistance in resolving some crime in the city, but she didn't care. It wasn't like any progress was being made. She was getting out of town. Away from Gotham. Away from the bad memories. Away from everything.

As Selina entered her own apartment, she saw Valerie sitting on the couch, reading a newspaper. Valerie was a girl from her neighbourhood who had an alcoholic father. Selina had crippled him a few days ago, to rescue the little girl from her father's thrashing. She lived with her now. Well, not for long. She entered her room and retrieved a black case from under the loose floorboards. She enter the code _6-2-7,_ and opened it up. Inside were a few belongings of her own, along with a few thousand dollars. She dropped the stolen ring into it and took out about five hundred dollars before closing the case again. She changed quickly, into something a little more comfortable and left the room, taking only the black case with her.

"The rent's good for another month, after that you'll need this," she said, handing the money to Valerie. "Don't go back to your house, stay here. I've talked to the deli manager around the corner and he will let you wait tables every weekend from 11 to 4. Don't go outside after dark."

"Sure I can't convince you to stay sis?," Valerie asked, in her timid little voice. Selina looked at her. The girl was almost nineteen, with brown hair and dark, opaque black eyes. She didn't seem a day over fifteen. The day Selina rescued her from her father, the girl hadn't been crying. She simply looked surprised that someone had the audacity to intervene. And when she brought the girl to her own place, Valerie had made herself at home quickly, forgetting about her other home, enjoying her freedom. Selina smiled at her.

"I have to get out of town, okay? We've talked about this. Stay out of trouble, please," she said. Goodbyes were hard.

"Okay, send me a postcard," said the girl, getting back to her reading.

Selina stared at Valerie for a moment. And then she sped off, her memories threatening to bring out the emotional side of her. She cleared her throat. There was nothing here for her. Bruce was gone, and there wasn't anyone else she cared about. She had to leave.

She smelled the wet mud before feeling the rain on her skin. It was barely a drizzle, but the storm seemed close at hand. Her flight would be delayed, she cursed. A cab pulled up. She clambered in without paying much attention.

"W'ere to, m'am?," the cabbie blubbered.

"The airport," she said, rolling down her window.

The cab pulled out of the street and she glanced back one last time at the old, haunted buildings in the rain, and the street lights that were hung up by ropes in some places. Men roamed the streets, drinking and smoking, without a care in the world. There were some men beating up a man while others stood by and watched. One last sordid image of the city she was leaving behind. The cab sped through the rain, skirting the East End district. She glanced at the dark buildings of Wochester Alley, remembering how she had taken down a street thug trying to save a little boy. It all seemed like a long time ago. A different life.

A shadow shifted in the night. It wasn't a bird. Something bigger, and darker. She saw it again. The movement was a blur. Probably Red Hood on his nightly patrol, she snorted. The car swerved suddenly, the cabbie cried out in alarm. Before she could even make a movement however, something heavy fell on the cab, breaking the front glass. The body rolled over and fell to the ground. She quickly looked up, to the top of the building.

It couldn't be. But he was right there. The Dark Knight. Lightning struck and his features seemed much more intelligible. Two ears out like a bat, dark ensemble all over and the cape hovered in the strong wind. Happiness filled her like a dry sponge absorbing water on the floor. He had taken long enough. But he was back now, so everything else didn't matter. She got out of the car, into the rain. Lightning struck again, closer this time, and making him much more visible. She was sure it was him. Tall, strongly built, and silent. Brooding as ever, she thought smugly. There was one other thing though, he was smiling. A very wide smile. Almost like a laugh.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Poison

He didn't know who he was. But he liked jokes. And the violence. So this was where Penguin was hiding. He looked down at the building labelled The Lonely Mermaid, the night club owned by Fish Mooney. Penguin had the city under his control, or so he had heard from some lowly street basher. He counted six men around the club, and with the X-Ray vision he asserted four more inside. Penguin was seated at the table enjoying the dancers while smoking from his pipe.

He sent two Batarangs flying at the guards at the back of the club. Both of them dropped from the heavily poisoned blades. He then smoothly glided down, casting a long shadow over the horizon and landed by the dead hunch men. He clipped open his guns from inside his closed robe and open fired at the four left on the other side. They dropped dead, one after another. The shouting began. People on the streets started panicking and ran for their lives. He left the gun on the road. Penguin deserved a more _personal_ touch. When he entered, as expected, the remaining four lunged at him. The chains worked their magic now. He moved such that four steel chains rolled out of his robes and caught each one of the remaining guards by the throat. He twisted his fingers and pulled and all four of them dropped their guns, clutching their throats. Penguin was shouting at his men to take control while the girls emptied out, screaming. He pulled on the chains harder and heard their necks snap as each of them fell, lifeless, to the ground. He unclenched his fists, allowing the chains to flow back into him, inside his robes.

Penguin was cowering against the wall, unable to move. He could taste the fear coming from a long way off. They always feared what they didn't understand.

"But ... but ... I ... I ... kil'ed ... ya ... , " said Penguin, now positively shaking. "Ya ... drown'd ..."

"Don't be delusional. Pathetic Cobblepot killed the Batman? Now who would believe that? Is that how you've been running the town? Telling everyone how you _killed_ the Batman .. Hehe ... I suppose you always were the smooth talker," he said.

He walked over to Penguin, and crouched down, running his long nails over the cowering pillock's face. Thin, red slashes appeared as he carefully worked to get it just right. He then stood up.

"Where's the Riddler?" he growled, lifting Cobblepot by his neck so that their faces were inches apart.

Penguin struggled, unable to breathe. He watched as the fat man turned blue from the lack of air supply.

"Let's try this one more time, shall we? Where is Nygma?," he said, smiling.

"I ... don't ... I ... da ... ,"

He was losing patience, with his other hand he reached out and cracked the bird's ribs. Cobblepot cried out in pain, almost wailing.

"Hmmm?," he said, pulling the Penguin closer to his left ear and tilting his head slightly. He loosened his grip so the words could come out.

"Don' know w'ere ... I can c'll him now ... "

He threw Penguin at the table set by the door, then picked up one of his men's phones and threw it at him. Without waiting to see what his quarry was doing, he picked up the slice of Pizza left untouched on the table near him and began eating it.

Penguin was dialling for the Riddler. He was still shaking, and sweating profusely. After a while, Penguin held up the phone, putting it on speaker.

"If you're searching for me, I am nowhere you see ... Unsee what you've seen, to get back to me ... If you're searching for me, I am nowhere you see ... Unsee what you've seen, to get back to me ..."

The loop continued. The Dark Knight growled. Another one of Riddler's puzzles.

"You are not useful after all ... ," he muttered, more to himself than to Penguin.

"For the record, you were nothing more than a pathetic tool all your life, Cobblepot," he said, slashing the man's throat with his nails and ripping the face along the lines he had left before with his nails, and walked out.

The cop cars had arrived and the complete street was surrounded when he emerged from the dingy bar. He walked slowly, at a leisurely pace. The fun was about to start. The floodlight from the copter was focussed on him, as every cop in the vicinity aimed his gun to shoot. Those closest to him must have seen what they were actually pointing their guns at as the whispers broke out and many nervous glances were exchanged.

"Don't shoot. It's Batman."

"It really is. He's back."

"Sick costume, Batman!"

All around, cops were lowering their guns. Some looked scared, others excited. A few started towards him, signalling the copter light to be taken out. Darkness was restored. He crouched, ready to pounce.

"Don't go anywhere near him," someone shouted from up above.

It was the former sidekick. He laughed. At least someone was still working with their head straight. He waited till Nightwing glided down to face him. Nightwing approached him wearily, watching his every step. Smart move .. haha. He stopped at half the Basketball court's length distance, coming no further.

Nightwing seemed tense. He looked around, contemplating his next move with the unknown enemy. The cops all around were getting impatient. Some were even looking curious.

Bleh, this was getting boring. He twisted the length of his arm such that one of the steel chains made its way up to the building behind him, latching itself onto the railing. He look out his grenade and slid it noiselessly across to where the sidekick stood, backed by curious cops and waited as Nightwing took another rigid step towards him.

The explosion was dramatic – the cops in the vicinity were thrown off the ground, and Nightwing grunted before falling on his face. The few cars within the range of explosion, caught fire quickly causing further explosions. Chaos reigned. The Joker laughed out loud. Louder than ever. He then twisted his hand back to the normal position, towards his right, the chain pulling him swiftly above and backward, into the cold night.

He felt the comfort of the bed before sensing anything else. It was filled with the most expensive cotton, stitched together with satin all over. The sheets were smoother than water in a dormant lake. Anyone would want to lay there forever.

Then came pain. The entire of his back hurt, and his legs were on fire. The pain seemed continual, endless. It was part of him. He tried to slowly to open his eyes. The ceiling of the room was white, simple. Around the corners, there was a pattern that seemed too complex to even trace with his eyes. He tried to get up, the pain increasing linearly with his movement.

"I would say another couple of days in the bed ought to do the trick, Master Grayson," said Alfred. He appeared to be sitting on the only chair in the room, by the wardrobe. "I daresay its good to have you back in your old room, nothing has changed of course. Except it has only has been cleaned a few hundred times."

Dick smiled despite himself. Slowly, only moving the minimal amount of muscles at a time, he sat up in his bed, rubbing the back of his head. "What happened?"

"I believe you had a run-in with Master Bruce, and someone attacked you from behind," Alfred said, now moving to pour hot water into a glass on the roller.

Dick then remembered. The panic returned. "I couldn't believe Bruce is back, Alfred. I saw his face. He was smiling ... and ... and ... before I arrived ... it looked like he was about to take on the GCPD. Something's off."

Alfred froze, like he knew something but, in a split second, he seemed to be his casual self. He poured the water and handed it to Dick, who was staring at the older man with a frown on his face.

"What is it, Alfred?"

"Its nothing, Master Grayson ... its just ..."

"Yeah?"

"Do you believe that ... that Master Bruce is still alive?" Alfred said, his hands quivering, as he took the empty mug back from Dick.

"Of course he is. What's going on? I just saw him last night, before someone threw in the grenade. Do you know something?" Dick said in a rush. The anxiety couldn't have been plainer on his face.

Alfred sat the mug down slowly before replying.

"When Master Bruce disappeared, the Joker visited the Batcave."

"Joker was here? In Wayne Manor? But you kept that quiet! What did he want?" exclaimed Dick.

"He wasn't in the Wayne Manor. I believe he entered from the other end. His clothes were all wet and he didn't use any guns to shoot at me. I am guessing it was because of the wet gunpowder."

"So ... why was he here?"

Alfred looked the floor as he answered. "Closure."

Dick stared at him. "What?"

"I believe ... that he thought Master Bruce was gone forever ... and visiting the Batcave was his ... final goodbye to the Batman. He disappeared right after."

Silence followed these words. Alfred seemed aloof, lost in his own thoughts. Dick was thinking about Joker's actions – the way Selina had described Joker's disinterest in the mayhem at Arkham when they were looking for Bruce, and how he had disappeared from Gotham at about the same time. This new piece of information put things in a new light. Two confirmations on Batman's death, one from Penguin and the other from the Joker. So if Penguin knew who the Batman was, as he had revealed on the night they had caught him, then so did the Joker. He had come to say goodbye? That was ridiculous, Joker had no sentiments. He constantly looked to murder and cause trouble. Yet he had left Alfred alive. But Batman was back, he had stunned half the GCPD with his sudden appearance the previous night. And with a jolt he remembered something else. Something so disturbing that he wasn't sure had actually happened. Right before passing out, he had heard the laugh, the crazy laugh that only one mad man could manage.

"I think they're both back, Alfred," he muttered, knowing it to be true.

"Ah yes," said Alfred. "It's all over the news. Penguin was found dead at the bar last night. At least they think it was Penguin. His face was ripped off, pretty precisely I might add. Heh."

Alfred then picked up the tray and started walking out. "Only a matter of time before Master would return. I'll have the bedroom cleaned, shall I?"

Nightwing stared after him. He thought he understood Alfred's indifference to Penguin's murder. Secretly, he was glad that the old mob boss was dead. Sparing his life the other day was a decision made on principles, but he had not liked it. Penguin had killed everyone who opposed him since then. And Gotham had gone beyond saving. He was having trouble standing up to the bad guys, since their number had gone up exponentially under the new rule. The ripping of the faces was Joker's signature move, for particularly dangerous enemies of his. So Bruce was after the Joker, probably examining Cobblepot's body for clues. The real question was, why hadn't Bruce shown up to the Batcave or the Wayne Manor? Was he after the Joker on his own? Where had both of them disappeared to in the past months? And then there was that smile, the smile Bruce had been wearing last night, before everything went from zero to a hundred. Was he happy to see Nightwing? He thought not. The smile was disturbing, not natural. Perhaps he had encountered the Joker's serum in the bar. And before he intervened, Batman looked ready to pounce on the cops and take them out. Maybe he was imagining things, maybe Batman had been getting ready to disappear, undetected by the cops.

He would have to drop the matter for now. If Bruce was indeed back, then things would start getting back to normal. That was a happy thought, he smiled to himself. Right now the news channels would repeatedly be telecasting the return of Batman, which meant everyone would re-evaluate their next moves. And Penguin was dead, leaving half the mob force in town pregnable. He needed rest, perhaps when he woke up he would send a thank you note to Catwoman for getting him home from the blast zone.

Damian peeked out of the Limo, and saw Gotham slowly appearing in the distance. The buildings grew steadily as the city got nearer. It was evening, probably around seven and the sun was almost on the other side of the globe. He was bored. The portable playstation lay on the seat, forgotten. The snacks in the Limo back doors were all paste in his stomach by now. He knocked absently at the window, thinking of what he would say to his father. He had been a bad son, that he knew. He had been getting along quite well with Bruce, before leaving Gotham to aid the Titans against the Legion of Doom.

Working alongside the Titans was something he had preferred a long time ago, now he was grown up and had more fun operating alongside Batman. Working alone was better in every way. And in the past year, he had grown so much that the old Robin seemed like a story from a different life, yet when he had heard the news of his father's disappearance, the old habits had instinctively come rushing back. Reckless and hot-headed. He had killed several innocents again. His mother would be proud, he sighed.

Batman was back now. Nightwing had sent for Damian, right after the Legion of Doom was defeated, asking him to come home for some time. Damian was ecstatic, having wanted to return to Gotham for a while now. But a Limo? Seriously! Nightwing was probably having a laugh, imagining him loading his trunks into the Limo in front of other Titans. They had been sad to see him go, as always. But the Teen Titans needed a Robin. Ever since Tim had been back with Batman to assist him in a series of deaths in Gotham, Damian had been sent to the Titans, to replace Tim till he returned. Sure he got along with his predecessor just fine now, and Damian would even go so far as to call Tim an able accomplice but, it bummed him that Batman had chosen Tim instead of him. That wasn't fair.

The car turned right as it entered the outskirts of Gotham, maintaining the same boring speed it had kept at since they started. Wayne Manor would be South East of here, he figured, closing the separator between him and the driver. He took out his mask and stowed it into his jacket pocket and left the bag there. Before the car made another turn at the crossing up ahead, he was gone.

The blueprint of Gotham city remained unchanged in his mind. The Government Library was visible at the other end of the street, which meant that he was far off the crowded, most vulnerable streets of Gotham. He sped up to cover that distance. If he was lucky, there would be dangerous crime afoot. The guilt made its way to the front of his head as it always did, Batman had strongly disliked his constant need to get involved in crime fights and catch bad guys. The hunger for death came from his temporary exposure to the Lazarus Pit, or so Batman had speculated, and his upbringing by the League of Assassins. His father had introduced structure in his purpose, and had made him realise how the League's study of humanity was so limited and one sided. Killing was fun, and it came naturally to him. But the restraints held him accountable, and that separated the good guys from the bad.

As he swung on the rope of his claw and landed on the pavement of a building near the DA's office, he saw it. A man was hung by the flag pole, his clothes covered in blood and the cadaver slowly rotated about the rope, the man's face would be in view for a few seconds before his back would face the crowd gathered around the town hall. The murmur of the people was consistent, like a string of bees trapped in a glass dome, except the dome here would have to be curiosity.

The dead man's body turned towards the people again, and this time Damian had a good look at the man's face. He did not recognise the man, but the smile on his face was hauntingly familiar. Poisoned by Joker gas.

The GCPD arrived just as he was about to come out of his hiding spot to sneak into the building. He recognized Gordon at the front leading the charge inside. A fleet of cops covered the entrance in a semi-circle. They all carried large glass shields to keep the crowd out and their commander stood outside the circle, glaring at the crowd as if he dared them to challenge his position.

Damian pulled his cloak on, and climbed down, moving so quickly that no one glanced at him more than once. He joined the crowd and pushed through it, appearing in stealth at the right end of the town hall entrance. Before anyone could notice, he slipped into the underground lobby, appearing directly at one of the emergency exits of the building. He kicked it in, breaking it on his first attempt and closed it behind him as he entered.

The noise dimmed down as soon as the door was closed. There was no one in the exit lobby. The door at the very end of the hall was open, with no lights on the other side. He ran to it, not wanting the cops to get all the action up there. Darkness was an ally for anyone trained by the League, so as soon as he entered the dark room, his legs automatically carried him up the stairs and through the fork on his left, where at last a square feet of light was visible and voices issued from it. He didn't have to duck to remain hidden, the patch in the door was above his head. He peeked through it, seeing Gordon and his men.

" ... no other way in Sir."

Gordon ran his hand through his hair, he looked miserable and exhausted. He took his glasses out and rubbed his tired eyes, before putting them back on. His beard was uneven and he had dark circles under his eyes like he hadn't been sleeping much lately. The crime rate in Gotham had spiked in his absence, so naturally, Gordon, being the Commissioner, would have had a number of sleepless nights, especially since he had a close relationship with Batman, who solely operated when the Bats woke up. Damian smiled, it was their little inside joke.

"Let's set a perimeter around the discussion chamber for now," said Gordon as his men bustled to follow instructions. Gordon left with them.

Damian entered the kitchen, hastily following the men to the other room. The chamber would be above him, he surmised. As the men moved out with Gordon to the hall that had direct access to the chamber, he opened the vent near the floor which was directly on his right as he entered the clearing below it. It produced a dull clunk when he pulled it out, and he quickly slid into it. Crawling through the ventilation pathways had been easier when he was younger, now however, he struggled to move a few feet. Luckily, the duct opened up to a larger channel, allowing him a little leg space. He pressed both his legs on either side of the metal path, raising himself above slowly till he reached a horizontal opening. The opening on his left would lead to the Assembly hall so he slid sideways, carefully using his right leg to keep him from falling back down, or worse, getting stuck. He kicked the vent opening from the inside and it fell creating a racket that echoed in the empty hall, perfectly built for acoustics. He cursed. Stealth.

Nobody was inside. He scanned the entire hall first, then the chambers that were behind the Speaker's high chair. The place looked deserted, and it was dark all around. Faint blue lights kept the room in semi darkness, but all they did was reduce the darkness by a shade. He walked slowly to the centre of the podium, still vigilant to his surroundings and then he realised that the Speaker's chair was occupied. He slowly took the Batarangs out, and as he observed more carefully the pointy ears of the occupant could be made out.

"Hello Damain."

"Father? ..."

The voice was different than what he remembered. But he recognised the familiar authority at once. This was either Batman or a very good imposter.

"I am both," said the voice.

He was on his guard now. "Show yourself," he shouted, crouching ever so slightly and getting into the attack position.

"Hmmm?"

The light behind the Speaker's desk flickered and then turned on. And the devil bared his teeth. He had no eyes, or so it seemed. His eyes were covered by a metal belt, which stretched all the way around his head, with pointy spikes coming out of it at evenly spaced intervals. Two of them were exactly at the points where he imagined the creatures' eyes would be. He donned a costume similar to the Batman's with the mask opening to reveal his mouth and jaw. His teeth were knives with the permanent eerie smile frozen in place. His head was metal too, but it was faded black that set it apart from his entire costume. The cape covered him entirely, making everything else obscure. He stretched one hand forward on the table, towards Damian, and the sharp deadly nails could be made out.

"It's been a while," said the Joker, smiling all the while.

"What is this?" retorted Damian, angrily. The Batarang was still in his hand, ready to fly at the enemy's throat at a moment's notice.

"Haha ... but you don't remember me. I'm hurt. I pitted you against the Bat once. Don't you remember? Hehe ... come now, all that dancing around and you forgot me?" said the Joker.

Damian stared. This could not be true. It could not be the Joker. The beast was a trick played by his own mind. He just had to snap out of it – out of the nightmare. He threw the Batarang and slid under the second row of seats, disappearing from view.

"Hah," cried the Joker.

Damian peeked from his hiding spot, only to spot the mad man holding the Batarang in his hand and examining it. Nobody could catch something that fast except for the Batman. What was going on here?

"I do need to upgrade these," Joker said, almost in a bored voice. "Let's see. A game first and then business? I like that heh ... "

This was a bad joke. It had to be. Damian crept up the stone pillar, noiselessly. He positioned himself carefully to fly at the Joker. Staying invisible was something he had learnt when he was too young. The League specialised in skills that prevented the enemy from seeking out their adversaries.

"Come now. There's no need to be shy. I have killed enough Robins to know their importance, Damian. And I have understood – ,"

Damian had made his move then. The drug was loaded into the injector and would decapacitate Joker for a time. The Joker spotted him easily, turning to him with the wide smile on his face. He acted fast, stabbing the injector in the Joker's direction instinctively. The Joker moved with ease, plucking the weapon from Damian's hand and in one swift twirl pinned it into his neck as Damian fell to the floor.

" – that Batman always needs a Robin," finished the Joker from somewhere up above. The laugh still reverberated in his head, as Damian fell unconscious, drugged by his own medicine.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

His Very Last Secret

Nightwing woke up to find that he had slept through the entire day and most of the night. It was almost daybreak. Slowly he got out of the familiar bed, stretching and walking about the room. It felt so much better to have slept for almost 14 hours. Alfred would be asleep in his quarters now, he could just quickly slip away. He got out of the room, walking toward the study. He needed a new suit after the blast.

The study was enormous. Hundreds of books stacked on every wall, and there were additional slots again, every few feet in the room. A large piano stood at the very centre, it was a masterpiece. Too bad nobody ever used it, except to get into the Batcave. He played the high C note twice, and then the low note causing the door to the Batcave to slide open. It wasn't a door as much as part of a book shelf at the North east corner, which moved outward like a door. He slid through it, climbing down the slippery stairs and jumping over the last few. The Batcave seemed different now, almost hostile. It had been years since he had taken this route to reach it, and the path seemed rather eerie.

He stepped into the first landing, the _Costume Room,_ he chuckled. Batman always hated that name. It made sense though, as this partition held almost all the outfits that Batman had used, and Jason's old Robin costume. He would have just walked past everything without a care, given his way. But, Bruce's rumored death had really changed a lot of things. Alfred and Selina had advised him to step in as Bruce's successor to the Bat family. In other words, they wanted him to be the Batman. He had refused blatantly, but the thought had lingered, causing a number of sleepless nights. He allowed himself one glance at the Bat costumes, after all Bruce would be back soon and he would be out of here by then.

He stopped, mid-step. Everything was the same, every costume was in its place and everything seemed normal, except for the very last case. This case was supposed to have held the current costume worn by Batman, instead he found it held something else. The Joker's suit. He recognised the familiar shade of green and the purple lining in the jacket. The teal middle piece was stained in blood, and the brown shoes seemed badly torn. A little above the jacket, right where someone's mouth would be, a dark red smile glared at him on the glass casing. He narrowed his eyes and moved to examine the suit. The red paint indicated that it had been there for a while now, more than a couple of days. So Joker was indeed back. A loud noise like that of a ricocheting bullet came from somewhere below. Nightwing ran to the source of that noise, someone was in the Batcave.

He barely made it to Batman's real study when he saw Alfred cleaning up a mess on the steel floor. He breathed a sign of relief.

"Alfred, there has been a breach. Did you see - ?" he began, as Alfred turned around. Nightwing gasped. Alfred's face was disproportionate, with his eyes bulging out, giving him an insane look of someone being strangled to death. His eyes had a green in them like the red lines that appeared in someone's eyes when they suffered from lack of sleep, and his teeth were bared in a smile. A thin red line seemed to be drawn along the edges of his face where it was sliced with a knife.

"Master would be arriving any moment," said Alfred, in his usual curt voice.

"Alfred, are you – can you – do you know what is going on?," said Nightwing.

"Of course, Master Grayson. How's your head? I knocked you out for a very long time. Master said he needed you. He will be arriving shortly"

"Master? You mean Bruce? But your face ... Alfred," he said, shaking the Butler vehemently, trying to bring him to his senses.

"Master Batman is on his way. You must stay ... Heh," said Alfred. He held Nightwing's hands around his shoulders and stiffly pushed them away with a force that hardly compared to an old man's.

Dick staggered backwards, into the offline controls of the Batmobile. He tilted his head to peak at the beast vehicle, and was shocked to notice that it was missing. The indicator on the offline monitor showed that the Bat was moving towards the cave from a distance. Alfred stood there, unaware of his surroundings. It was the Joker's poison, Nightwing registered. Green was evidently Joker's color. He knew who was driving the Batmobile at rocket speed towards them now. Surely, Batman would be more careful. He punched the red, round, buzzer button, closing the entrance to the Batcave immediately. There was a ground-breaking thud as the Joker somehow swerved the vehicle to get inside anyway. The noise of the falling water died out, making the Bat's sound more pronounced than ever. As the Bat landed, the cave went completely quiet.

Dick moved to the other end of the room, picking up his charged sticks. He ducked behind the counter, waiting for the maniac to come out. The Bat's door burst open. He peeked around the edge of the counter to see what was happening.

Damian stepped out. His neck wrapped in a steel chain. His tongue was out like a dog's, and his teeth were pointy with each one of them cut out to precisely fit the toothy smile. The red lines extended all the way to his ears, and his costume was the same as ever.

"Haarrrrr ...," said Damian.

"Ooo Nightwing is here! Good sniffing out boy," said the Joker, stepping out. His Bat costume was evil, with chains stretching out in many different directions. The eyes had thick steel bars coming out of them and his head was covered in metal, with two pointy ears raised around it. Just like Batman's. Within a flash, Nightwing understood. That wasn't the Batman he had seen the other day. It wasn't Batman's return the media was reporting. Selina hadn't decided to stay because of Bruce's return. Bruce was gone, dead. The Joker was back ... as Batman. This was the last straw.

Nightwing lunged. He had nothing to hold back. Alfred turned to look at him, with the mad laugh still in place. Nightwing knocked him out first, without thinking. Damian then moved in front of the Batman, taking a defensive stance. Before he could make a move, Robin stopped him, mid air. The Joker moved around, whistling casually as he picked up pieces of hardware from the Batcave. The chain from his robes extended smoothly as Robin moved instinctively to cover his master, with Nightwing trying to close the gap between them. He rolled over the Bat manual controls, slipping horizontally on the steel frame of the landing. The Joker was feet away when Robin came out of nowhere, knocking the breath out of Nightwing. Nightwing doubled up, leaping up with nothing for support, this was his one trick, extended jumps – the ability to stay airborne longer than most vigilantes hoped for.

"Haaarrrr ... ," said Robin again, losing his momentum.

Nightwing unsheathed his sticks, going for the Joker's head. Robin was up in the air again, having leaped up from the ground. The chain from the Joker's robe extended infinitely, without a hitch or a break.

"Hmmm? Yes ... he does seem to be coming for me .. haheha," said the Joker, dropping the things he was carrying.

Nightwing stretched his right hand, ready to lash at the Joker. He was two feet away now ... seventeen inches ... a little more ... less than quarter of a second now ... and then the Joker disappeared. Nightwing crashed into the table, the things dropped by the Joker falling into a heap around him. His head hit something hard, the pain intensifying with time. Joker's laugh echoed all around the Batcave.

Robin hadn't moved. The chain around his neck seemed to stretch on forever. It was now so complexly wound around the clearing that following the other end of it to the Joker seemed arduous. He struggled to his feet, despite the pain. Joker was in no hurry to kill him, he thought, for the mad clown was nowhere to be seen. Robin stood there, immobile with his mouth wide open, smiling at him. There was a reverence in his look, like he was looking at a God. Behind, he thought quietly.

He spun around, shielding his chest with both his sticks forming an X. The four knives entered his abdomen despite the defensive position. He stumbled, backing up several steps and almost colliding with Robin, who remained stuck to the same place. The Joker tasted his blood off his nails, his smile widening.

"Haha, that was fun. You almost had me! Hehe ... now now Damian, show a little respect. Dick was you at one point," said Joker. "And he will be again."

His vision blurred, and his lungs were ruptured. The Joker had his back on him now, walking slowly toward the large screen at the center of the other edge. The loss of Damian and Alfred stung harder too, combined with the disappointment of finding out that Bruce was dead. Joker was the Batman, and Batman was the Joker. Evil combined with Strength – there was no stopping this force. He felt his breath fading, each one causing more pain than the previous. Robin moved then, and his walk was comparable to a zombie's. His hands hung limply in front of him, his legs moving sideways one after another. He dragged Nightwing by his hair, walking back to the Joker in the same staggering movement.

"Damian ...," moaned Nightwing. Robin didn't seem to hear him. "Damian ... please ..."

Robin dumped him by the Joker, walking back to the Bat mobile. He began working on the broken right wing. They did not seem to have any trouble communicating without using words.

"Haha .. surprised? Wouldn't you rather join me, Nightwing? Oopsie! I made it sound like you had a choice .. Bleh heh. I am what Batman was supposed to be. A power more fierce and terrible than everything else combined. You will serve me, willingly or otherwise."

Nightwing had to admire the casual tone of the Joker-Bat. The restraint he had learnt was insurmountable. The Joker was a maniac. Batman was ... well, Batman. And this was the worst of both. The world would fall apart under this new regime of Ordered Chaos. The Joker's movement was different, more ... structured. He moved fluidly around, his hands loose on his sides with nails that could pierce even the thickest of Bisons. The armour was all dark. Different shades, more artsy but the iron plating was hard to miss from up close. Three layers of the magnum opus of the future would be enough to even stop a canon from getting through, even if his rapid movement could not save him. The chains seemed to emerge from the mad man's body, there were many of them, all seemingly pointed outward. This was not the Joker of the old days.

And he had no eyes. The thought returned to him. No eyes yet Joker moved graciously, without skipping a beat. The screen flickered before changing to the bird eye view of the Justice League Watchtower. Nightwing watched in horror as the Joker flicked through the outputs of different cameras, various JL members appeared on the screen, their strengths, weaknesses, and loved ones all documented for Batman's eyes only.

"... so you see, my vision goes beyond Gotham," finished the Joker.

Batman walked back to Nightwing, the smile stretching slowly to his ears as he got closer. He put one long index finger into Nightwing's mouth and lifted him up. He turned the old sidekick's body around, shoving his other index finger into the mouth as well.

"The smile is mandatory," he whispered.

The right index nail cut through Nightwing's tongue, all the way through to his jaw, it then emerged out near his Adam's apple. The other nail made a hole in his upper mouth, joining it with the air vents of his nose. Suddenly, Nightwing understood what had happened with Damian. The clown pulled, and Nightwing heard his own jaw crack. All pain he was facing till then ceased, as the fresh one took over. His lips grew out into his cheeks, with muscle linings trying to hold on at first, then everything tore out, producing a surprisingly small amount of blood. He tried to bite, struggling in the Joker's hands but the only thing he was certain of was the taste of his own blood. He could feel his vocal cords screaming their loudest as their breaking point drew near, but none of it made it to his ears. He could only hear laughter. The cold, heartless laughter that he remembered from a long time ago. Perhaps when he was still alive. The track to his ears seemed to be joining in the protest too, struggling to hear anything that could possibly make some sense, but no one else was there. And no one was coming. Darkness consumed him, his thoughts losing the little sense they had left. He was staring at something dark, and then there was nothing at all.

He lost track of days, and nights. The Batcave remained dark and cold as ever. His senses returned after a while. It was impossible to be sure of things like time here. The daylight outside never made it so far in, but the lights remained, burning. Dick raised his head, slowly looking around the Batcave. His hands were tied above his head by a rope that bound him tightly allowing no movement. His legs barely grazed the ground, putting most of his weight on his toes. The pain was bearable, but the thing that annoyed him most was the lack of feeling in his face. He felt no pain at all, and that surprised him beyond anything.

He tried to move. Nothing happened. His legs screamed in protest when he tried to lift one off the ground. And then he felt it – a single line of metal inside him, stretching from his head to his abdomen within his body. The only part of it that was visible was from his jaw line to his upper chest, and then it disappeared again inside in his chest. He lifted both his legs slightly and swerved his entire body from left to right, and then right to left, and this worked. He moved his legs to the side together and now they moved, his movement had to be in coordination with the new Spinal cord. There was movement nearby. Damian came hopping in front of him, moving a long, thin, black board. He turned it over revealing a mirror. Nightwing looked at the man in the mirror and gasped.

He looked like Damian in every way. Their smiles matched, down to the very last tooth. His own tongue stretched out making faces at him from the mirror. Part of the steel cylinder was clearly visible in front of his neck and the ghost of his eyes made him forget everything he thought he knew about himself.

Nightwing tried to shout, no sound made it out. Or perhaps his ears no longer worked. The world seemed upside down, his other senses taking a front seat when he tried to figure out what had happened.

The Batcave shook as the Bat entered. The Joker leaped out even as the Bat parked itself in its usual place. He walked up to the screen and started pulling up various documents that were too far for Nightwing to catch. The chain, Nightwing observed, slowly wrapped itself around Damian as soon he was in its range. The Joker turned to look at him, and then smiled. He then continued to look at the screen, going through the information that Nightwing only dreamed was not something that could put his allies in jeopardy.

Joker began walking towards him then, his hands tied on his back, his tall figure moving ever so fluidly through the semi-darkness.

"The prodigal sidekick .. hehe .. ah but you look so handsome with the perfect smile on that face," said the Joker, running his finger nails on Nightwing's face creepily.

Nightwing struggled to move away, unsuccessfully. A different chain was now closing around his neck, making it harder to breathe. The stench of blood from Batman made it impossible to take anything else in, and his teeth still had traces of blood on their tips.

The chain tightened till the metal in front of his neck threatened to crush his oesophagus. His thoughts dimmed, like he was waking up from a very deep sleep. Liquid rushed up his throat, and he thought he would barf but, the liquid's presence vanished as soon as it had come. He felt tiny pebbles glued to the insides of his neck. The dizziness intensified and he started to forget. All pain disappeared, only to be replaced by absolute, dark silence. For a moment, he forgot who he was, then a voice took over, a powerful voice that seemed dull and foggy at first, and he clung to the words it spoke. A metallic voice that rung in his silence, lone and loud.

"So you hear me now. Yes, what you're thinking is perfectly accurate. This was what happened with Damian."

Nightwing didn't need to look at the horrifying face to realise who was speaking, although Joker's mouth did not seem to have moved. All other frequencies were dimmed out, except for that one voice. The chain around his neck vibrated infinitesimally, causing resonance in the metal rod inside of him. His free will flickered, and he thought desperately of breaking free, and the Joker laughed.

"Too late for that now. You're mine!"

"Harrrr ….," said Nightwing.


End file.
